


Eulogy

by Anonymously_a_Dragon



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Major Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:21:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 89,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28335339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymously_a_Dragon/pseuds/Anonymously_a_Dragon
Summary: Three strangers convolute their lives, in what would seem to be for God's sheer enjoyment of entertainment. A contract so paper-thin it risks being torn, a bounty hunter on the run from his own well-kept secrets, and a mysterious woman who can't seem to find her way home. All convene on a case that proves sometimes letting go, is the best form of goodbye. Mostly OC's.
Relationships: Charon (Fallout)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4





	1. Who's Knockin'

It was the uneasy feeling of being watched.

Although he was just enjoying a beer at the bar, he could feel that burning stare itching its way through his radiated brain. Now, albeit he was a ghoul, and a rather _renowned_ one, at that, he was sort of used to the second glances or the hushed whispers behind his back. It didn't really bother him anymore.

Draping an arm across the back of his chair, the ghoul took another wash of brown liquid and casually observed the room. **There**. In the corner. It was an individual, all cloaked with a glass of water on their table. Cross couldn't make out their face, but he could feel those eyes, spying, in that swath of black shadow.

The bar was rowdy that night. Patrons from every walk were there, drunk, smelling of either brahmin shit or piss. Cigarette butts began to litter the floor, tendrils of smoke throughout the air. Laughter danced with shouts and slurred curses, the jukebox in the corner playing softly.

_"Pistol packin' Mama, lay that pistol down!"_

_Fuck it._ Cross downed his drink, rising from his seat as the chair screeched against the floor. Bringing down his glass with an audible _clink_ , he set off across the room, homing in on his stalker.

The mysterious figure immediately set themselves to leave. Just as they turned to walk out of their booth, a large hand settled on their shoulder and roughly pushed them back into their seat.

"Just where in the hell do you think you're goin'?" Cross growled, inwardly surprised at how light their body reacted to pressure. Two smaller hands raised in a surrendering fashion. The large ghoul took the seat across from them. "You don't move until I say so, got it?"

The figure tensed.

_Click_

_Goddamnit, a fuckin' setup._ Cross growled under his breath as he felt the familiar cold iron dig into the backside of his decayed head. With a sigh of complete irritation, the ghoul took his turn in raising his hands slowly towards the sky.

"Easy, Charon." The hooded individual clasped their hands together on the table, twirling their thumbs in a slow manner. "We're not looking for trouble; just some information."

Definitive feminine voice. _It's always the dames._ Cross narrowed his eyes at the woman. "Oh yeah? Real friendly way of _askin',_ " he said irately.

The thumbs hesitated in their action.

A harsh shove forced Cross's head forward slightly, and he gave the woman a murderous glare. A hammer cocked into place, with assistance from a rugged crimson thumb. "Now," the voice rasped behind him.

"Okay, easy! Don't kill him!" The woman nearly pleaded. Bringing up one hand, the raggedy brown hood slipped away, revealing the anxious face of an attractive smoothskin.

Cross breathed out hotly. "Can you call that thing off my back?" Her brows knit together, looking from the shotgun to his face. She nodded, and there was immediate release. Sitting upright, the bounty hunter took a hold of his chin and cracked his neck loudly.

"What the hell do you want?" he asked gruffly, turning his head slightly for a view of the cloaked threat behind him. "This ain't no place for a smoothskin like yourself… _even_ if you got protection."

_Damn, he's a fuckin' big guy._ Cross quickly assessed Charon in his head, his eye darting across the combat shotgun that was still directed at him.

"I can take care of myself, thanks," the woman retorted, reclining deep in her seat with her back arched against the booth. "I know who you are."

"Hmm. Is that right?" The ghoul raised an eyebrow muscle at her, nonchalantly reaching into his leather jacket. A growl from behind gave him a warning. "Listen, kid, this ain't no place for someone like _you_." A pack of cigarettes was tossed upon the table, and he frisked himself for his lighter, silently cursing.

_Did I lose it back at Mallia's place?_

The woman bristled. "I'm not a _kid_." Leaning her arms on the table, she titled forward slightly, licking her lips. The sight held his interest for a moment. "I'll compensate you for your time. Please."

The ghoul barked out a laugh. "What, you couldn't start with that _before_?" He contemplated it, then motioned her to follow. "Put the hood back on and follow me," he rasped.

When a good distance was put between themselves and the bar, the ghoul stopped in his tracks and turned around, pointing a rotting finger at her shrouded face. "You're goin' to get yourself _killed_." He spat to the side. "You're lucky you got fuckin' _Grognak_ over here, girl like you just askin' for some trouble."

"And I said, I don't _need_ protection." Almost out of defiance, her hand gripped the fabric and she revealed her face to him once more. Her tumble of brown hair fell to the wayside. "I _need_ to know about Darcy Lackins."

Cross peered down at her with slits for eyes. A battered cigarette found its way to nonexistent lips, being put on standby as the light was still being searched for. "Not interested," he rudely dismissed.

"I was told you're the man to speak to." The woman crossed her arms over her chest. "Said you were last seen with her."

_Fuck, **finally**_. Orange sparks illuminated the space between them, as a meager flame from his lighter lit the smoke he was craving. After a few minutes of silence, the ghoul turned and stared out into the twilight. Bringing the glowing cigarette from his lips, he breathed out a stream of white smoke into the night.

_Guess her ghost really **will** follow me._

"She's dead. Died in Braxton. That's all I can say about it." He then reached a large hand towards her, pausing at the weight he abruptly received on his shoulder. "Got yourself a good bodyguard," he grumbled. "50 caps. No complaints."

"Wasn't going to." She gave a sigh and slid her pack off, flipping her waterfall of hair behind her shoulders. "Here." The clinking familiarity of post-war currency in a sack was placed into his open palm. "And thanks."

The two then trudged away, the sound of gravel crunching beneath their feet as Cross observed them leave. He took a long drag.

_…never got her name…_

* * *

_"It was Darcy...poor girl."_

The troubled ghoul quickly sat upright as the last image to bless his awakening was that blonde-haired ghost; pretty features painted with a shade of blue. With a low growl in his throat, Cross grabbed the flimsy blanket and thrust it over his sleeping partner. The cheap ghoul whore chortled and rolled her back to him, oblivious to her client's movements.

Empty bottles of booze clinked together as the mercenary reached for his possessions; thrusting his reinforced leather pants on, sliding his dark grey jacket over broad shoulders, equipping his favorite knife back into its satchel. Prostitutes were _always_ trying to rub it off him when he was in a drunken stupor. Somehow, in his good favor, it constantly ended up next to the ashtray.

The room was dark and stifling, something the ghoul was used to. At that moment, though, Cross wanted nothing more than a few whiffs of fresh air, and so he promptly finished gathering his things and left the dingy shack.

The sun was just about to climb over the horizon, the sky a clean slate for whatever horrors would transpire down below that day. After shaking off his morning piss, the bounty hunter started down the road to his next destination: Earling.

Word had been floating around that a gang of marauders had been stalking the shit-hole town for about a month now. Was a perfect opportunity to make some quick caps when the townsfolk were sure to be desperate for a hired gun. It was only a few hours by foot if he kept a good pace, but certain memories ended up plaguing his thoughts and slowed him down.

The ghoul raged at himself after he woke from his fifth daze down memory lane. _Damn you, Darcy!_ A large pebble was at his foot, and he booted it brutishly into the waterfront he was caught staring over.

The sun was already beginning to creep along the eastern horizon by the time the bounty hunter strolled into town. He kicked himself for wasting a whole day, and then kicked himself into the town's "diner". After eating a hot meal of something unrecognizable and washing it down with a cold beer, the ghoul set his inquiries on the town's problems.

"Oh, yer that ghoul bounty hunter, m'i'right?" A grimy rag was set into an equally grimy glass, twirling around in hopes that both would somehow come out cleaner. "No need. Got sumun on the job."

"Mercer, or Handle?" Cross set down his empty glass, raising a hand at refuse for another.

"Nope, ain't seen them. Twas two folks. Purty gurl and a big ghoul."

Cross's facial expression went from being stoic to instant aggravation. _WHAT!_ So, they not only shake-him down for information, but now they're shoeing in on his work! This was his way of living, and for a fucking ghoul, it was a pretty good one.

He tapped his glass, deciding to take that refill. "Where were these guys headed?"

* * *

Evelyn felt the blood ooze inside the crevice of her fingerless gloves as she wiped the hot liquid from her Pipboy screen. The backlighting of her device was flickering, again. She made a mental note to finally take the time and fix it, but in reality, she knew she would rely on its durability until the day it finally called quits. She smacked the thing lightly a few times until the neon green finally lit up in her face.

The **smack** of her companion bumping the refilled stock into his shotgun made her turn her head around, and she was frowning at him. "You think that was all of them?" she asked, blinking in the ever-growing darkness that was encapsulating upon them.

The ghoul only grunted in reply, and she pondered on whether it was a _no_ or a _yes_.

"Soooo…" She waited, turning back to her screen and flicking the knob a few times. "I'm going to take that as a **yes**."

The sudden sensation of hot breathing down her spine made her slightly jump in place. Even in the weeks they had been traveling together, she was still not used to him quite literally being at her heel. " _Jesus_ Charon, you always _scare_ me when you do that!"

He only grumbled at her, taking a small step back to allow her more personal space.

"Well, let's pocket the goods and get the hell outta here." The Pipboy screen was flicked off with an unusual _whir_ , and a concern that it may not turn back on formed in her belly.

The rusted-out doorframe they entered from was now riddled with bullet holes. Evelyn kicked it open with the heel of her boot, and it slammed against the corrugated metal with a shudder. As soon as she was clear of the archway, the door came slamming backward and hit her companion in full force.

"Charon!" Evelyn shouted, her feet moving of their own accord back towards the ghoul. A large figure seemingly stepped out of the shadow to the side and made a move for her.

To Cross, he was lucky. He had managed to surprise the bigger ghoul.

For Cross, he was _unlucky_ , in that he surprised the wrong one.

The ghoul brought up an arm to deflect the kick that was aimed at his chest, intent on grabbing her upper thigh and body-slamming her into the dirt. What he didn't _expect_ was to get punted into the side of the building like a ragdoll, with an arm that screamed _I'm shattered in a million fucking places right now!_

"Gah!" Cross grunted out in pain, his head lolling to his chest as he struggled to stay awake. His vision was swimming in stars, and it felt as though his right arm was dipped in Hell's fire. _What the fuck kinda person-_

"Wait, Charon, wait-!" Evelyn immediately grounded herself between the incapacitated bounty hunter and her recovered stalwart companion, whose face screamed his intent to kill. His shotgun froze in the air at her command, but was never returned to its holster.

A bright light flashed on and was directed towards the other ghoul. "What the _fuck_ are you trying to pull?!"

Evelyn's voice barely registered in his brain, and he realized he was going to pass out at any moment. _Shitshitshitshit-_

Some other words were muffled down to him, and he was out.


	2. Temper, temper

"Shall I kill him?"

"No…no, just- _ugh_."

Charon's finger ghosted the trigger; his instincts screamed at him to pull it. The unconscious ghoul slumped at his feet twitched, and it was a good enough excuse to send the barrel of his shotgun down the mercenary's throat. His pride was stung, but that was something he could shake off once the assailant's brains became wet mulch for the grass. Heavy boots crunched forward.

"Charon, **no**." His employer laid a small hand on his exposed bicep, and she was staring up at him with a face masked by shadow. "He's out. We'll figure out what he wants when he wakes up."

_**No need to kill 'em, man. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding!**_ _**Talking never hurt anybody!**_ The Lone Wanderer's voice chattered away casually in his thoughts, intermingling with those of his new employer's. He snarled at the memory ghosting his present situation, and with a sigh, fastened his weapon in its place.

"Shall I carry him back?" he asked dully.

Evelyn had a thick strand of hair in-between her lips, and she was gently chewing it in contemplation. "Yeah, let's take him down to the clinic," she mumbled, giving him an anxious glance. "Are you hurt at all? I can manage him."

A low growl oscillated in his throat, and she raised her hands up in a comical fashion, spitting out her hair to give birth to a wide smile. "Okay, okay. Thank you."

The ghoul bodyguard didn't reply, reaching down with a practiced motion to place the subdued bounty hunter across his back. He paid no mind in being gentle and was rewarded with a few moans of discomfort. It almost brought a smile to his ruined face.

"I think I should give him a med-x or something-" The sentiment died on her lips at the glare she earned from her employee. " _Well sorry_ , I don't want him to _die_ on us before we get back."

"Do not waste it. He intended harm." Charon secured his grip on the other, waiting on Evelyn to take point. "Shall we go?"

A curt nod was inclined, and he dutifully followed behind her under the cover of night.

* * *

It was morning.

Infinite dust spiraled like small galaxies across the rifts of sunlight that entered the room. A permanently deactivated Mister Handy lay dormant in the corner, the accumulation of filth over its metal casing like a thin blanket.

_FUCK!_ Cross bolted up from the gurney in the medical clinic, his head spinning on a dime as he looked for signs of danger. When he realized his situation, he only growled at his own stupidity and threw his legs over the edge of the medical bed. His left arm, he noted, was slung.

_Ugh…_ At that moment, he didn't know what ailed him more: the massive migraine that was threatening to split his skull, or the fact that he was in this situation due to a _single_ wallop from the smoothskin woman. If he wasn't in so much damn pain, he would've appreciated her a bit more.

A crunch in the back of his mouth brought his good hand up and left him rooting for a cracked molar. Footsteps on the other side of the door snapped his attention across the room, and he sat upright with a murderous glower.

What he assumed was the town clinician had come to stand before him, her fissured glasses sliding ever so slightly down the bridge of her nose. She raised a hand to correct them. "Good morning! I'm Doc Sellers. You're a tough S.O.B. to have taken that much damage and be fully conscious, much less up and moving the next day! But with that scar on your face, I'm sure you-"

"Where's my shit?" he muttered under his breath. 

Doc Sellers dramatically raised a thin eyebrow, her glasses making for their escape. "Well now, you're not going _anywhere_. I wasn't paid to have you go roaming off and making a mess of yourself again!" The eyewear tinkled as it was reset. "Now lie back and-"

"Who _paid_ you?" he angrily growled, his good hand cracking into a tight fist.

She only blinked at him stupidly. "Why, Miss Evelyn did, of course! You were in such bad shape you needed immediate treatment, and she kindly offered- I think she felt bad to put you in such a spot!"

" _Where is she?"_ The ghoul had a mind to hoist the doctor by the collar and wring her around the room, but a female voice redirected his wrath towards the doorway.

"You're welcome," the woman bit out at him, her face set in a scowl. She had her arms crossed; a long brunette braid rested over her shoulder. "Just what the hell is your problem?! I gave you the money, and you just _attack_ us-"

The ghoul put his full weight into the balls of his feet and slammed them down on the floor, scaring the doctor as she scrambled to the side. He encroached upon Evelyn, giving her the full force of his ire. "I wasn't tryin' to _kill_ you," his throaty voice rumbled. "But you have no right takin' my work after the shit you pulled on me!"

She barked a laugh upwards at him; he was mere inches from her now. The hot wash of his breath flooded down her face and neck. Its effluvium was of alcohol.

" _Your_ work?! Give me a break! We were just passing through and decided to help." The scathing expression he gave was enough to make most men stutter, but she held his ground with her own. "I didn't happen to see your _fucking_ business card lying around!"

If she hadn't previously displayed what a damn _super mutant_ she was with her strength, the ghoul would have viciously kissed her cheek with the back of his grey hand. The dull throb from a mending cracked rib changed his mind. He blinked and stared into her eyes. They were an enrapturing blue, and for a split-second, he was entranced. With a snort, he felt his fury begin to ebb away, and he backed off. The pretty ones _always_ had his number.

A heavy thud sounded behind the woman, and the ghoul felt his blood boil anew. Now that they were all in close proximity in a well-lit room, he was able to take in the other ghoul fully. It wasn't an exaggeration when he thought he was towering. _No way there are ghouls_ _ **that**_ _fucking tall._ Cross himself was a rather large individual, and his height and build usually kept others from crossing his path. But _holy shit!_

Charon was his own animal, and the bastard knew it.

A cough in the corner brought everyone's heads snapping around on a swivel. Doc Sellers gave a squeak at the immediate and overbearing attention, nervously adjusting her glasses with twitching fingers. "Could, we- um, all step outside? Please? Except you, Mr. Cross, you need to rest."

Evelyn gave a nod and huffed at the grey ghoul, turning on her heel with her palms digging into the armor plating of Charon's chest. "C'mon, big guy. Doctor's orders." The woman slowly directed her bodyguard through the doorway and into the hall, the crimson ghoul's eyes burning into him like white-hot embers.

Out of years of habit, the bounty hunter patted his breast for his pack of cigarettes and uttered a snort when he was only met with decayed flesh. His milky hazel eyes flashed at the doctor, who skittered around the room collecting various things.

"My jacket?" he gruffed out, as neutral as his atrophied vocals could manage.

"Oh yes, here are your things!" Doc Sellers flashed him a nervous smile, erratically flailing her arms as she grabbed a metal bin full of his gear. "I only ask you to stay another night to let the stimpaks sort you through, and then you can be on your way!"

He only grumbled under his breath as his good hand fumbled around the bin in search of a much-needed smoke.

* * *

"No _fucking_ way, come on!"

_Smack Smack Smack_

"UGHHHH!" Evelyn nearly ripped the Pip-Boy from her arm, wanting nothing more than to hear it smash satisfyingly against the cement. "I **just** had it working!"

A tiny voice of reason in the back of her brain chastised her for being negligent; a small purr of condescension reminding her she knew this was bound to happen, eventually. _You should know better. You're smarter than that._ A shuddering breath left her body as she quickly regained control of her thoughts. She was still riding down the high her temper had lifted her on, and it took all of her self-control to not lay the receding waves of it on her invaluable device.

"Is there a problem?" Charon asked, almost minutely. His voice was completely monotone, as was the usual, but she swore there was a lace of amusement in it.

"This fucking thing doesn't want to turn on!" She gave it another rough **bap** for extra measure. "How are we supposed to know which way to go?!"

"Maybe someone can repair it," he offered, turning his head away from her. He shifted his weight to his other leg and flexed his arms that were locked across his chest, leaning against the corner building of their hotel.

"If you can find me someone who can repair a Pip-Boy in these parts, I'll find you a Mirelurk that can _sing,_ " she snipped crossly, mostly to herself. It was her fault, plain and simple. Her stupidity had cost them a very intricate map to use to get to Braxton.

And if their only consistent source of information was broken…a certain ghoul brushed the forefront of her mind.

_NO_. She spat out to herself, her fury now reduced to a steady pulse beneath her skin. Closing her eyes, she gave a very tired sigh and then kicked at a defenseless tin-can, sending it whistling through the empty air. _Damnit!_ The bounty hunter was more trouble than it was worth. They had trekked through the wasteland in the wake of his trail for days, all for a crumb of information that only _he_ apparently had.

He was infamous in some regions, from what she had learned when tracking him. A damn good shot, and a reliable mercenary that **never** failed in bringing in his prey. Being a ghoul had only elevated his reputation; most ghouls were regarded with unfair prejudice, but Cross just strode through the world with his own blood and bullets. The gouging scar over the left side of his face was intriguing on its own. She was surprised he still had his eye.

She rubbed her temples as she mulled over her thoughts.

"You could've killed someone with that punt," a rasping voice informed her. The grey ghoul had materialized from her thoughts, his walking mirage coming to life through a shimmer of white smoke. Those milky eyes were peering at her critically, and she felt a shiver like cold fingers tracing up her spine.

A mean glare was what she offered him in return. "… **what.** "

The ghoul said nothing, and rather than the angry expression she had come to memorize, he only shrugged his shoulders and winced. A pang of regret thrummed in her heart. She had really laid into him, after all. There was no point in looking to her bodyguard; she knew he would pounce on the broken ghoul if she merely _thought_ the idea.

"I have never taken such a beatin', before." Cross exhaled through what was remaining of his nostrils, an amused glint to his eyes. "Especially from someone so _short_."

Evelyn snorted. "I'm not short; you're just freakishly tall."

Cross puckered his lips on the nearly burnt-out cigarette, the lids of his eyes squinting together and directing his gaze towards Charon. The other ghoul relayed a mental message that only men of their stature seemed to understand.

_Lay a hand on her, and I'll snap your fucking neck._

"No, _he's_ freakishly tall," Cross muttered matter-of-factly. Dropping the remainder of his smoke to the ground, his heel went to work in grinding out the remaining embers. Mostly out of habit, as there was nothing left to burn in that atomic hellscape. "You from a Vault? Haven't seen someone with a Pip-Boy in a long time." A literal bony fingertip pointed to her left wrist.

"No." She was now reminded of her dilemma, and her brows furrowed in angst. "It's broken, anyway. Which way is Braxton?"

_What the hell_. The ghoul's face returned to its usual pissed-off attitude. "Braxton? You're not plannin' on actually goin' there, are you?" He scratched at his casted arm. Man, it was itching like crazy!

The woman scoffed at him. "Um, yes? I'll pay you for directions."

Cross turned his grey, bald head at Charon. "That's a ghoul city. You do _not_ want to go there." He looked back down at her brunette head. "Is this about Darcy, still? She's dead. No lick of sense in visitin'."

A spark lit in the bodyguard's eyes, and Cross could see the clockwork turning as he came to understand the underlying threat. The ghoul kicked himself off the wall.

"I _have_ to go, so whether or not you help me doesn't matter. But it would be _nice_ of you if you could just point the way." The woman was either ignorant to his drift, or just blatantly ignoring the dangers.

" **No.** " Both bounty hunter and smoothskin turned their heads to the mountain of a man on their side, his tone leaving no room for argument. Those hot, blue coals for eyes were smoldering down at Evelyn. "We are not going."

Cross gave a smirk. So, the big brute had some brains in there after all.

The woman's attractive face just gaped at him stupidly for a few seconds, her brain struggling to process the order of words spoken down to her. Finally, she snapped her jaw shut with an audible _click_ , and she now redirected her reproachful gaze to him.

" _You too?!_ " she nearly cried up at him. "Fine! Fine!" She threw her hands up in the air exasperatedly, stomping past the towering ghouls that were staring down at her from either side. It was like passing under a live, decaying archway. "I'll fucking go myself!" she snarled.

One hand clamped _hard_ on her shoulder, while another thrust itself in front of her chest, stopping her in her tracks.

"Evelyn, _please_." The tone in Charon's voice was pleading, something she had never heard from the large ghoul before. It was almost enough to make her pause and rethink her actions, but she had come this far and couldn't stop now.

"If you go there, you will die," Cross told her bluntly. "The ghouls there are not friendly with smoothskins, trust me, I _know_." He coughed, spitting the phlegm to the side. "Especially one like you. That city is a cesspool for hate."

"Is that why Darcy died?" She spun her face up at him; her braid swung over her shoulder. "Because she simply _visited_?"

The bounty hunter grunted like he had been struck. Those hazed eyes glowered at her, and he slowly brought his good arm back to his side. "No…"

"Then why?"

"Why the _fuck_ do you care so much about her?" the ghoul thundered, gnashing his teeth together in frustration. "She's a dead woman; died ten years ago, and ain't lookin' to be gettin' back up anytime soon."

He startled backward as tears began to overspill from her cerulean eyes. _Ugh,_ he **_hated it_** when they cried.

"It's none of your fucking business!" She sobbed, hurriedly wiping away the floods that plagued her cheeks. "I don't need your advice, or your help! From _**either**_ of you!" A small hand came up and roughly shoved Charon's purchase from her shoulder, and she stomped down the empty street to disappear from view.


	3. And So It Begins

_**Well, shoot. Looks like I got us lost…again. I guess that's the last time I try to explore without the Pip-Boy! C'mon, let's head back to town and get a beer, and tomorrow I'll screw my head on straight…after I take my shot with that waitress!** _

A mess of blonde hair, scraggly atop a sunburnt face splashed with freckles and an everlasting grin. Charon grunted at the memory, shaking the boy from his mind. Now wasn't the time or place to be harboring regrets towards his past employer, when he was just struggling in keeping his basic sanity with his new one.

_**Yo, Charon! Check this out! Wanna see if I can pitch this baseball off that mutant's head? I** _ **was** _**the top little leaguer in the Vault, Amata used to say I-** _

**QUIET!** He clenched his jaw so hard he almost cracked a tooth. Damn that kid, worming under his skin, infecting him like he had the dozens of countless others back in the Capital. Damn him…damn him for being so fucking selfless, dying for a dream instilled in him by his absent father.

"Charon." Evelyn's voice cut through the fog of his mind like a sharp sword, but she couldn't replace the freckled face from leaving her shoulders. "I am going to Braxton, whether you want me to or not." She had her arms crossed and was giving him that scolding glare, but he could tell she was tired. Exhausted, even. Her puffy eyes and splotched face attested to that. "If you don't want to come, I will give your contract to anyone of your choosing, and I'll make-"

The sentence never had a chance to leave her mouth as the ghoul swiftly came inches from her and had engulfed her shoulders with his massive hands. "Evelyn," he rasped, satisfied to see her snap fully to his attention. "I will not leave you; so don't leave me."

That mop of blonde overshadowed her tumble of tawny. Those mischievous brown eyes glinting at him from those deep ocean-blues. The words that whispered off her pink tongue completed the vision.

"Alright, I won't leave you, big guy…"

_**You and me, the dynamic duo of the Capital Wasteland! Hurry ladies, single for a limited time only!** _

He gave a shuddering sigh of relief, relaxing his hold on her person and angling away from her.

"Charon, you've never acted like this before…what's going on with you?" Her eyes were troubled now, and she seemed genuinely worried for him. He sucked in a breath and didn't meet her gaze, reforming that perfect mask of stone. "You can talk to me, you know."

"When do you wish to leave?" His voice was kept completely neutral.

The words crushed her; he could see it in her face. But it was better off her not knowing his issues and conflicting emotions. It could be dangerous; for both of them. The last thing he wanted was to carry her ghost around, too.

"I…I don't know," she answered honestly, bringing a gloved hand up and rubbing the lightly tanned skin on the back of her neck. She lifted her left wrist up at him. "Pip-Boy is still broken, and no one else even knew Braxton _existed,_ " she informed him lamely.

A grunt. He was _glad_ , then. A wild goose chase, searching for clues on how to reach the city was _much_ better than undergoing the growing dread of them encroaching the place. Maybe she would finally grow tired of the endeavor and give up whatever mission she tasked herself.

She bit her full lower lip, a sight that warranted more than a few unwanted interests from men in their travels together.

_**Oh no**_ **.** It was her dead give-away for _I have an idea, but you're not going to like it_.

"No," he grunted.

She gave him a confused expression. "Wh- I didn't even say anything yet!"

He chastised her with a gloved finger. "You're thinking of something unreasonable."

Two hands exploded out to her sides, waving dramatically. "It's not unreasonable, it's a _plan!_ "

Charon expelled an irritated sigh.

* * *

_"Fuck no."_ Cross didn't even want to look at her face. It was dangerous, women asking him for things they wanted. Especially ones that had big eyes and pouty lips, never mind this one still had fucking skin. He flicked the ash of his cigarette into the metal tray. "Go home and forget about her, kid." _Easy words coming from someone like me…_

"What's your price? 100 caps, 500 caps?" She was rummaging around in her pack. A heavy bag dropped at his elbow. _"1,000?"_

" _Jesus,_ put that away before someone tries and rob you." The ghoul slid her offer back with his good forearm. "And I said, **no**. Are you deaf, or just stupid?"

"Neither. I'm persistent."

That earned a cynical chuckle, and he waved her off with his good hand.

She stowed the caps away and hesitated before leaving him alone at the bar counter. "Why did you come out this morning to talk?"

"I _didn't,_ " he growled at her. "Doc wouldn't let me smoke in the clinic; you two just happened to be outside with me."

" _Oh yeah_ , three blocks down the street just _happens_ to be outside."

Cross flicked his lighter a few times, watching the sparks fly on the counter. "You're a snarky bitch, you know that?"

A predatory smile glinted at him. It was something akin to a wild cat. "I know."

He mentally groaned at himself. _There's no way in_ _ **hell**_ _I'm stepping foot back in that shithole._ "Fine…" He stowed his lighter back into his jacket pocket, the sling for his arm forcing him to drape the one half over his right shoulder. "Fine…I'll take you to Braxton."

Evelyn's smile grew wider and she ignored her employee's hand on her shoulder; his way of telling her his feelings otherwise.

* * *

She had to be completely _crazy_.

"So, just a three-week journey, huh?" Evelyn twirled a little bit on her toes, then hopped over a piece of concrete. Her energy was completely different from before. Almost like she was damn happy to be walking towards inevitable death. "No sweat."

The bounty hunter grunted as he lifted his newly mended arm over his head in a stretch. As he felt the muscles in his neck pop, he gave a sigh of relief and caught the vehement stare of Charon boring into his skull. _Well, can't say I really blame the bastard…_

"So, how did she rope you into all of this?" the ashen-colored ghoul inquired of his fellow man.

Charon didn't answer; just kept his thousand-yard death stare.

"I hired him," Evelyn offered simply, taking the end of her braid and chewing on the end.

_She's like a damn kid now._

"Huh." Cross reached his hand inside his jacket. "For what? Can't imagine it was for protection…" His ribcage was still slightly tender.

"Is smoking bad for ghouls?" She redirected the conversation, watching the way he lit the cigarette in his mouth. She blinked at him, then looked to Charon. "I've never seen you smoke, Charon."

An oversized rock was in her path, and she tripped on it. An _oof_ escaped her lips as she plopped down hard on her tailbone. Charon merely bent down and grabbed her forearm, setting her up easily back on her feet.

It was unexpected to Cross, seeing a smoothskin like herself so comfortable with…with something like that. _Like him_. It surfaced unpleasant memories, and he shoved them back into the confines of his mind. They had a strange relationship, and he ventured it something to be more than just "hired help".

"Do you want one?" He rattled his pack at her, and he received a grimace as thanks.

"Bleh. The smoke usually gives me a headache." A single finger was brought to her pale, pink lips. "Although, I sometimes like the smell on people. It's almost like it makes them familiar, you know?" She then gave him the widest smile he had ever seen her make, and her sea-sprayed eyes seemingly glowed up at him.

He felt his dead heart give a small _thud_.

_WHAT,_ _ **NO**_.

It wasn't his fault; to his credit, he hadn't been around a woman like her in a very, _very_ long time. It wasn't fair! Here was this beautiful creature, treating him like another honest man. Not like a ghoul, or a monster. Just…a person, for God's sake.

He mentally chastised himself. _She almost killed you, remember?_ But that sentiment just somehow made it worse. She had twirled around and was continuing on along in front of them, a quiet hum in her throat.

The feeling of inherent danger made his skin crawl, and his head darted around to Charon's face holding the most hateful glare he had ever seen in a man. Those eyes were like pits of blue flames.

The ferryman of Styx was coming for him.

But he couldn't help the feeling that was embedded in his chest now, like a goddamn cazador had pierced him in the heart. With a tip of his head back, the bounty hunter exhaled out a long drag and narrowed his own eyes at the ghoul in return.

It was going to be a _long_ three weeks.


	4. Not Again-

Fuck, it was already a long _two days_.

The small dive of a town they had settled in for the evening was quiet enough, until the local drunken trash began to rowdily question as to why a young woman was parading around with a couple of hulking ghouls. _That_ had ignited Evelyn's temper, and Cross was once again displayed with her ungodly brute strength after she had demolished a table by simply flipping it across the room.

Two men had attempted to grab at her, and _**that**_ only angered Charon, who had then proceeded to beat the tar out of the two idiots until Evelyn ordered him to stop. Cross didn't want to have _any_ part of it, but then the barkeep went ahead and brandished a piece in his face, so he relented and joined in on the fun.

The three of them were banned from the town altogether, and they had wandered the wastes for a suitable campsite for just a few hours of sleep. Cross, that first night, learned that his fellow ghoul didn't sleep at _all_.

Now he had to sleep with one eye open, in case the ferryman would try and sink a knife through his skull whilst he dreamed unsolicited fantasies.

The night proved rather boring for Cross's REM cycle until he was jolted awake to the sound of a woman screaming. The darkened sky gave little indication as to the time, and he was faintly disoriented when he realized he was alone. Sounds of gunfire and shouting echoed down along the riverbank they had camped by, and the ghoul quickly checked his weaponry before setting off towards the commotion.

A female shriek assaulted his hearing. " _WELL, THEY WEREN'T HERE EARLIER-"_

A grunt followed a not-so-graceful jump over a concrete barrier wall, both of Cross's knee joints popping resolutely as a warning. Feeling his heavy boots sinking into the gray sandbank, he turned a quick left and saw the white sparks of muzzle flash.

"Got one!" That was Charon. "Get behind me!"

Two shapes came into focus now. A smaller, pale form flitting like a specter behind her overly large shadow. The duo was under siege from a couple of mirelurks; the faint outline of their massive claws unmistakable. Their smell…also unmistakable.

"On your right-" Cross announced himself as he made his approach, not wanting to be mistaken for a foe, and shot outright. He raised his pistol and began to fire, the mirelurk in the rear now turning its full attention on himself. _Gotta slug these bastards in the face._ "It's down."

A few more ear-splitting shots rang off through the dark with credit to the ferryman; the mirelurks artistically splattered against the wet sand. "There, that's all of them."

Evelyn gave a sneeze. The rich smell of gunpowder layering with the putrid stench of the mutated crustaceans was overpowering, and she walked up the bank for the relief of fresh air. She gave a small shiver; her private bathing leisure had been rudely interrupted, and the only article protecting her from the autumn breeze was an oversized shirt she had managed to struggle into.

A grip of iron encircled her forearm, and she was spun around forcibly. "Ow-hey!"

"That was incredibly _stupid_ of you," Charon growled down at her. Even though she could not define his face in the dark, the anger in his voice was enough to paint her a picture. "You're lucky there were only a few; if there had been anymore, I may not have made it to you in time."

Evelyn grabbed at Charon's hand with her own, but he refused to release his hold on her. Something incredibly warm and viscous flowed across her fingers, and she blinked stupidly at him. "You're bleeding."

A grunt affirmed at her, and he slowly relinquished his grasp. "It's fine. Are you hurt?"

" _I'm fine,"_ she retorted at him. "Are _you_ okay?"

A few seconds of his nasal breathing was all she heard, and then, "I'm still standing."

"Well, _my_ _God_ Charon! Let's hurry back! I'll…I'll meet you there." She brushed past him and went to kneel beside her things, experiencing a violent startle at the second shadow figure standing awkwardly to the side. "Oh, Cross! You fucking scared me."

The bounty hunter peered at her in the dark. She was so white she practically glowed. What he guessed was arms made a flurry of complicated movements; his vision was always shit in the dark.

"You can go back too." Her voice floated up to him from a white face, seemingly suspended in midair. It was slightly creepy. "I need to get dressed, so _**shoo**_."

"All the work and no party." He nonchalantly replied, shrugging his shoulders and beginning to trudge back up the small hill to camp.

"I'm not leaving you here alone," Charon firmly spoke down to her, as he watched her unfurl her road leathers. Unlike Cross, Charon was almost cat-like. He could see perfectly well under the cover of darkness. "I will wait for you."

A sigh drifted to his ears. "We've been _through_ this before. I like to have privacy when it comes to stuff like this and-"

"And it clearly is too dangerous." He finished, turning his back to her as he noticed her pause at undressing her only garment. "Privacy is a luxury in the wasteland, you should know that."

" _No_ , privacy is apparently something people in the wasteland who have ghoul _no-sleeping_ bodyguards don't ever seem to get," she chewed out at him. A small yelp escaped her lips as she was caught off balance and fell over, the wet skin of her thighs now covered in grit. A hiss was made as she wiped it away, the rough sandpaper texture scratching at her skin. "Those damn mirelurks; I think I smell _worse_ than before now."

"I cannot tell the difference." Came the monosyllabic reply.

Evelyn paused in her actions and stared at the broad backside of her companion, the slight shaking off his shoulders giving the clear indication he was silently laughing at her. "I did not know Charon- 'The Wasteland Destroyer' -made jokes."

"I do not."

Evelyn gave a peeved huff and finished tightening her leather laces, feeling for a small stone in the sand to throw at her companion's patchy head. The military cap she had given him a few weeks ago had been left behind in his race to her aid, giving her a large enough target to chuck her projectile at.

"You're a jerk," she informed him, lobbing the rock at him. She missed completely, and it sailed over his left shoulder.

"Your aim is still terrible," he replied just as matter-of-factly, turning around to catch her beginning to walk away. He dutifully followed suit.

When the pair had been welcomed back into the firelight of their campfire, the bounty hunter was languidly lounging in his place, a smoke at his lips and an amber bottle at his side.

"Gone so long I figured you lost your way," Cross called to them, reaching down to uncork his liquor. "So, what the hell was that all about then? Skinny-dippin' with mirelurks a common thing of yours, kid?"

Evelyn went to her pack and unzipped a large flap. "I actually like to have good hygiene, if you can imagine." A couple of stimpaks and some clothed bandages were summoned out of the abyss of her bag.

"Is that supposed to mean somethin'?" He took a swig of bourbon, not bothering to remove the cigarette that was hanging in the corner of his mouth.

Evelyn tossed her wet hair to the side of one shoulder, and it slapped loudly against her leathered armor. She gave him a sidelong glance. "I'll let you be the judge of that."

Cross muttered something unintelligible as he watched her kneel before the seated ghoul, her medical supplies set to the side.

"Okay, take it off," she ordered, grabbing at a plastic bottle of pure alcohol and uncapping it.

Charon obeyed, removing his shredded combat armor chest piece and betraying no emotion as blood suddenly gushed from the right side of his chest. The black shirt he was wearing as a base layer was practically ruined; the swipe from a mirelurk claw had found a good hold and ripped him from his clavicle down to his pectoral muscle. It was ugly, and Cross knew it hurt like hell.

The ferryman was a tough motherfucker.

Evelyn's eyes went slightly wide as she feverishly injected him with a stimpak, wiping away at the blood on his chest as the wound sluggishly stitched itself closed. When the healing began to slow, she inoculated him again, her hands gently working over his ruined body as she cleaned him up efficiently. She was leaning forward, and the merc had to draw his focus to her hands lest they strayed away on her lower protruding backside.

He could've gotten away with it, though, Charon's gaze never left Evelyn's face as she methodically patched him up.

" _Jesus_ Charon, this is as bad as that time in the police station, when you took that full spread from that raider." Evelyn grabbed the torn edge of Charon's undershirt with both hands and ripped it neatly in half, exposing Charon's bare chest. "I _still_ can't believe you survived that."

The ferryman's eyes appeared warm in the dance of the firelight as they stared down at her. "If I recall, that venture was _also_ your fault. I would not have been injured so badly had we avoided that situation altogether…and had you cleared that room properly."

Evelyn narrowed her eyes up at him and she pursed her lips, crossing her arms as he removed the remnants of his shirt completely. His face was stoic, but his eyes were smiling at her with amusement.

Cross grumbled something and stood upright, ambling away from the two of them and into the bushes to relieve himself.

"Yeah, well, take it from me." She slapped a damp cloth onto his muscled flesh and began to wipe away the residue of dried blood. "You just have to find someone willing to take the bullets for you, instead."

Massive, maroon fingers intertwined firmly around hers, halting her deft movements across his body. The fingernails were long gone from his hands, and there was a slight indent around the middle joint of his fingers from the years of constant wear from his fingerless gloves. "That is not funny."

"I'm not laughing." She smiled sardonically at him, pulling her hand away and observing her handiwork. "How do you feel? Are you still in pain? I have med-x, if you want some."

Charon leaned back from her a little, bracing his left palm against the socket of his right shoulder and rotating his right arm a few times. "I'm fine."

" _I'm fine."_ Evelyn perfectly mocked, tossing the blood-soaked bandages into the campfire. A loud _sizzle_ was produced from the hot flames licking at the wet cloth. "But seriously, are you okay?"

Charon twisted the bloodied, ragged leftover of his shirt into a ball and fed it to the fire. He turned to meet her stern stare with an impassive one; flexing his crimson hands into fists, the knuckles cracked loudly. "I am better. Thank you."

Evelyn dropped her eyes from the intensity of his own; the hot flush of blood creeping up her neck. She was internally grateful the pirouetting shadows made it unnoticeable. "You're going to need some new clothes, _again_. Let's hope there's a trader along the way."

"Next town won't be for another three days, but there is an old plaza center that might have some scraps left to salvage." The brunette nearly jumped out of her skin when the other ghoul materialized from thin air. "There's also a Vault-Tec warehouse a couple miles on the outskirts; could see about some spare parts for your little busted Pip-Boy." That ivory, bony finger scratched at his square jaw.

Evelyn ran her fingers through her wild drying hair, lifting it high atop of her scalp and setting it into a long ponytail. "That would be nice." She was digging through her pack again. "I almost feel naked without it."

Cross felt a crude joke upon the tip of his tongue, but the hard steel of Charon's eyes was tracked on him again, and after witnessing the sheer resilience of the ghoul, he thought it best to swallow it down.


	5. Breathing Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos, and for the comment @blipbleep! It feeds my soul. :^)

Evelyn placed a hand subconsciously to her stomach, giving a small squeeze as she felt another wave of nausea overcome her. A small bead of sweat rolled down her temple; the sun was just beginning its rise over the horizon, and the air was quite chilly. She swallowed down a rancid burp.

Cross had skewered some pieces of softshell meat from their aquatic guests for an early breakfast, and she wasn't sure whether to blame the meat or the unidentifiable oil he fried it in. Whichever the case, the last few hours of travel had been absolute agony.

"You look unwell." Charon pointed out bluntly beside her. "Shall we stop?"

Evelyn gave a light shake of her head in protest, and the small action drastically intensified her queasiness. "I-uh-" She hastily redirected herself from the group and took shelter behind a half-buried freighter. The sound of vomiting answered the ghoul's question.

"Didn't like my mirecake special, huh?" Cross's voice mused over.

_I'm never even going to_ _ **look**_ _at another mirelurk if I can help it._ Evelyn wiped the spittle from her mouth with the back of her glove, panting lightly and waiting for her stomach to settle. A second bout of unease flooded her, and she groaned as her eyes closed. A tremor ran down her spine, and she rested a palm on the rusted frame of the truck for support.

Another heave, and she puked again; the contents splattering her dusty boots. _Damnit, so gross._

When the nausea fully dissipated from her system, she set her pack down and probed for her toothbrush and some paste. The tinge of vomit on her tongue was something she did _not_ want to taste all day.

After she scrupulously refreshed herself and her boots were dug into the hot sand to wipe off her sick, she plodded back to her companions sluggishly.

"You are _never_ cooking again," she tiffed out at Cross, who merely shrugged at her. Charon was grappling at her bag, and she was trapped in place until he finished digging out what he wanted. "I have this aftertaste of-of… _motor oil_ , in my mouth. Absolutely disgusting."

"I guess I should stop usin' it for a secret sauce," the grey ghoul joked demurely, cracking a grin at her. She only huffed at him, turning her face away.

"You should drink this. You'll risk dehydration." A _zip_ reverberated as Charon secured her wares. A bottle of purified water refracted the sunlight as it was held out to her. "You don't want to fall ill."

"I don't want _anything_ in my stomach right now," she grumbled at him. A mean glare was given in return, and she relented, taking the bottle into her own hands. "…ugh."

"C'mon kid, he's right. Besides, we have some miles still before we hit _Ol' Sunnyvales_ Shopping Center. We're makin' good time." Cross was holding his cigarette carton in his hand, and he gave a face of disappointment. "Fuck. I'm out."

"No serious loss," Evelyn half-heartedly joked, unscrewing the cap and flicking it like a frisbee. "Shouldn't smoke so much anyways; probably bad for you."

"The world is bad for you," he commented, chucking the empty packet into the wastes. "And so is my cookin', apparently."

He was rewarded with a loud full-bellied laugh, and he appreciated the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled fully. "We all have our specialties…yours are just especially _bad_."

The two walked side by side for a while in comfortable silence; Charon bringing up their rear, hazardously armed with his incoherent grumblings.

The sun was hanging high in the sky, those bright rays of sunshine greeting all in its boundless stretch across the wastes. The trio was strolling across a crumbling overpass that provided a strategic overlook above _Ol' Sunnyvales._ It was a rather dull journey trekking the wastes up to that point; not so much as a bloatfly had graced their path.

Ironically, Evelyn was making an indirect comment about their luck, when Cross grabbed her shoulder roughly and shunted her down behind the concrete divider. A yelp was given in exchange.

Charon's defensive instincts immediately launched for an offensive grab at the merc just as a bullet made its signature _whir_ past the two. Both ghouls dropped down for cover instantly.

" _Fuckin' raiders,"_ Cross muttered, his initial irritation beginning to debut from the lack of smokes. "Damn leeches, is what they are."

Another volley hit the side. The concrete blew apart from the impact, and they were sprinkled with debris. A rancorous commotion echoed from the distance below.

" _We can find some things at this_ _ **really**_ _abandoned place, guys,_ " Evelyn snarked over the tumult, flexibly removing her pack whilst keeping herself down low. A third shell _whizzed_ above them. "How long has it been since you came through here? One hundred years?!"

"I just saved your ass." The ghoul reminded her pointedly; his eyes narrowed at her. " _You're welcome_."

"Won't mean much if we end up getting killed because of-" Her words were cut short as she felt the worn leather of Charon's gloves encircle her jaw, readdressing her attention to himself.

"Hey. _Focus_." The ferryman's eyes were like hot steel, and they were burning holes into her. He held onto her face firmly for a few more seconds and then released her to motion at the heavily wrapped bundle strapped to her pack. "Rifle."

Evelyn ducked her head at his scolding, nimbly unfolding the sniper rifle she kept packed away. Handing over the weapon to her ghoul counterpart, she then reached inside for a metal box and procured a silver tube with beaded handles.

"Pull it," Charon commanded, unfolding the tri-stand of the rifle. He unclasped a side pocket on his person, pulling out a long black scarf and tying it securely around the lower side of his face. A thumb tipped his dark leather military cap back.

Evelyn obeyed, yanking on the handle. An immediate _hiss_ sounded, and a billowing white cloud rapidly enshrouded the three of them.

Once the firing had ceased, Charon firmly braced himself against the divider and set the rifle in one smooth, practiced motion. His thumb clicked at a switch built into a black telescopic sight, and a heart-warming _thrum_ came to life.

Five seconds was all he needed for a quick body count through the thermal scope. _Eight._ Not taking his eye away from his aim, he stretched down and clicked the safety off, his finger coming back to ghost against the trigger.

Evelyn tucked her face into her jacket, too blind to rummage for her scarf in her pack. Charon always chastised her for not keeping it on her person, and she was sure he would have plenty to criticize when all was said and done.

As was a ritual between them, she kept her spine flushed against his right leg and kept herself seated in place. The ghoul could put all of his attention through the scope when he knew her position.

Two of his shots immediately rang out, and then a third. Evelyn raised a clutched hand that held a full stock and pressed it against him. An empty clip was given in exchange, and she listened to the familiar clicking of the rifle being reloaded. Thanks to Charon's stringent training, she was capable of refilling the empty cartridge in the blind.

Two more shots rang out, and then a considerable stretch of silence.

They were now four minutes into their ten-minute cover window.

"Damn," Charon grunted, his body still as stone. "There's three more, but they drew back. I don't have eyes on them."

Cross coughed. "I'll go down, flush the rest out. Give me some cover fire."

"I'll go with you-" Evelyn began.

" **No."** Both ghouls harmoniously ground out.

Cross rose into a crouch, his boots scratching some loose rocks across the pavement. "If you plan on shootin' me, make sure it _counts_." And with that, he darted through the cover of smoke and down the side of the interstate.

"Are you done with that stock? I want to reload," Charon grunted. As he was re-equipping, he felt Evelyn squirm at the base of his leg. "Quit moving," he rasped.

She immediately stilled.

A few moments later, and a figure came into his field of vision through the scope. As tempting as it was to simply rid the ghoul from their lives and his problems, he kept his trigger finger steady and waited for the appropriate target to shoot.

Cross was suddenly sprinting behind cover. The other raiders were still hidden from his view, but the mercenary had a reputation. If the stories proved true, Charon had no doubt he would be capable of disbanding the rest.

Their ten-minute window was now up. The gas quelled from the canister, and Evelyn chucked it, the metal casing giving a _clink clink_ as it rolled down the road. She scrabbled forward on her hands and knees, reaching for her bag. The ghoul bodyguard remained in position as the smoke dispelled and revealed them to the world.

"I'm going to help," she spoke over her shoulder, pulling out a string of four grenades.

Charon didn't break away, watching the gunfight transpire below as he waited for a pounce. "No, you're not. Stay right there."

"Charon, don't you do this right now." The annoyance in her tone was distinctive. It didn't bother the ghoul in the least. He didn't mind her being pissy at him for situations like these. " _I swear_ -"

"He's finished," Charon interjected curtly. "Looks clear."

Evelyn snapped her mouth shut and whirled her head around, peering over their cover and spying Cross down below. He was waving at them.

Charon stretched, his back cracking as he turned to his employer. The rifle's safety was clicked back on and the _thrum_ from the scope was silenced.

She was staring back up at him, wearing that cold expression she normally reserved for unwanted fixations that attached themselves to her at the bar. In all of their time together, she had _never_ directed this look at him before. He waited for her to speak first.

No words came. Instead, she took the rifle from him and replaced the stock, carefully wrapping the gun back inside its mummified casing. He watched her intensely as she replaced the remainder of their gear back inside her pack and settled the thick straps onto her shoulders. With a turn of her heel, she set off down the road and left him in the void of silence. The ghoul pocketed away his scarf and sighed irritably.

Cross watched their approach as he fiddled around and gave a careful sweep of the area. The band of raiders must have only recently arrived; their encampment appeared temporary, and there wasn't much salvage on their end. Caravans didn't pass by on these backroads, so whatever their reason for coming out this way was anyone's guess.

He observed them with interest as they drew closer to himself. The icy look on Evelyn's face and her stiff posture just screamed _you're wrong and an idiot and I'll make you pay for that._ For the decades he had been around fooling with women, he knew the tall-tell signs of _that_ particular mood.

Luckily though, it wasn't reserved for him.

"That was some nice sharpshootin' back there," Cross genuinely complimented, rifling through the pockets of the dead raider at his feet. "Pretty smart setup you guys got together."

Evelyn gingerly stepped over a dead woman; her brains bespattered against the concrete in a fan-like design. "Yeah, whatever."

She circled at a directory stand, wiping a layer of grime from the cracked plastic screen unsuccessfully. "I'm going to look around," she said offhandedly, not caring to look back at the two ghouls staring off after her.

Cross gave Charon a knowing look, chuckling at the expression of complete malice he received in return. The ferryman just grumbled under his breath, following after her. The mercenary stared after them for a moment until they disappeared around the bend, and he went about his way to find some much craved-for smokes.

* * *

They had come to a set of double doors that was barred from the inside. Evelyn simply raised the heel of her boot and sent them flying off their hinges. Dust billowed from the years of abandonment, and she waved a hand before her face and sneezed loudly.

It was dark inside; the only light that filtered through was from the open doorway.

A familiar palm hovered above her shoulder. Charon curled and uncurled his fingers, before deciding to withdraw his hand back to his side.

"Are you mad at me?" His question sounded so uncertain Evelyn barked out a snide laugh.

"Why don't you go check the other stores? Be faster, that way," she dismissed him brusquely.

The heavy hand landed decisively this time, halting her from moving forward.

"I do not know what you are thinking," he rasped, his shadow engulfing her completely. "If you are angry with me, please let me know what I have done wrong so I can correct myself for future use. It is dangerous to-"

"Holy _shit_ Charon, you robot-sounding motherfucker!" Evelyn removed his grip and spun around to face him, her long braid whipping around and smacking her chest. "You're either mad half the time- at only God knows what- or so damn _monotone_ I forget you're human! Yes, I'm mad at you!"

Her sudden outburst caught him off guard. This was the first time she had expressed true rage at him due to his actions, and he wasn't sure how to tread. With his previous employer-

_No_. His previous employer was **not** Evelyn, by any stretch. He exhaled deeply and waited for her to continue.

Evelyn crossed her arms and tapped her right foot angrily, chewing her lower lip as she broke off from his gaze and stared away to the side. "I didn't hire you to fight all my battles for me, you can't just… _helicopter_ , over me, like you do. I'm getting smothered."

This time it was Charon's turn to laugh, and it bounced strangely off the walls. "What did you think you _were_ hiring me for, then? That is my sole duty to you." He came extremely close to her now, his eyes seemingly aglow in the darkness as they peered down at her.

"Not to prevent me from doing what I see fit!" she snapped up at him. "Just like now, with those stupid raiders-"

"You are _lucky_ you were not killed for being reckless." Charon cut her off rudely, crossing his arms to mirror her own. "The situation was handled without your intervention."

Evelyn growled, bringing her foot up and smashing it back down forcefully enough to crack the tiles. "I could _boot_ you across the plaza if I wanted to."

Charon blinked at her. It was true. In an honest fistfight between them, she would wipe the floor with him. Her freakish strength, whatever it was attributed to, was enough to warrant its own danger. He never really did have to worry about her handling her own when it came to physical altercations, but she was _strong_ , not invincible. She still bled like everyone else, something he had already witnessed more times than he was comfortable with.

"Physical violence on your end invalidates our contract," he responded automatically. With a grunt like he had been struck, he snorted at himself and worked his jaw angrily. Finally, he gave an exasperated sigh. "Evelyn, I am honor-bound by my contract to protect you in all threatening situations, so…I _apologize_ if I appear overbearing…that is not my intent."

"Then what exactly _is_ your intent?"

"To keep you safe," he responded bluntly. "If necessary, to lay my life down for yours; if the situation demands it."

"But I don't _want_ you to!" she burst out. "You're already so hell-bent on keeping me from getting to Braxton, which you have so vocally stated. You can't just take control of my life because you think it's what keeps me _safe_."

"Then there is no logical reason for our partnership." The words firmly left his tongue and smacked her in the face.

Pained betrayal swept up in her features. "But…you said, before-"

Charon snarled at himself and stepped back, putting some physical distance between them. That was an _idiot_ thing for him to say, especially since she was already furious with him.

A loud cough made them both turn to the open doorway. Cross stood there somewhat uneasily; his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets and a moniker lit cigarette wafting tendrils of smoke around him.

"Hope I'm not interruptin'," He looked back down the way he came. "Found somethin' interestin'. I need your superwoman strength to get at it."

Evelyn wiped a hot tear that had escaped down the side of her cheek, nodding. "Yeah, yeah…I'm coming." She sidestepped him, avoiding his outstretched hand at her. "We're done, Charon."

The ghoul was then left alone in the dark, his eyes aglow like small orbs after her.


	6. An Unexpected Affair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Total Cliche/ Some smexy.** I swear these characters write themselves. I'm just a cadaver operated by wires.

Cross was now intrigued by the progression between the smoothskin and her bodyguard. Whatever the issue, she seemed unwavering in her commitment to ignoring Charon completely now; who hovered directly behind them like a _real_ boogeyman ghoul.

"Charon." Well, that didn't last as long as he thought. "Go wait for us by the raider campsite."

_Ouch_.

The ghoul didn't respond, or even give a predicted nasty look his way; he merely pivoted on his foot and left as ordered. When they were finally left alone, she indicated for him to continue with the nod of her head.

"So, I see you got your bad habit back."

The bounty hunter took the last drag of said bad habit, tossing the burning butt on the ground when it was finished. The wind picked it up and carried it off before he could extinguish it, and they both watched it tumble away down the sidewalk.

"It's almost a guarantee, with me," he rumbled.

They continued on inside a little storefront, and he led her back through the dim hallways to an open maintenance room. There was a clutter of miscellaneous items on shelving scattered about, and a large filing cabinet against the back wall that had been shoved to the side.

"Ah yes, the janitor's closet; so exciting." Her tone was so dry Cross couldn't help but let out a grating laugh.

"Think you can crack through that safe in the back wall? It's been untouched." He pointed at the rusted locked box peeking out at them from behind the cabinet. "I'm a shit lockpicker."

Evelyn sighed, setting her pack down to the ground and unstrapping her jacket from her person. Cross raised an eyebrow muscle.

"Last time I did this, I ended up ripping the seams of my jacket," she explained, pouting at the memory. "Was my favorite jacket, too."

Cross was fixated on her full pink lips displayed so prominently until she shed her layer to the side, and her skin-tight shirt was left on exhibition. _Holy hell._

He had to force himself to look away. After all, he was asking this woman to _literally_ rip a safe out of a wall with her bare hands. If that didn't put the fear of God in him, then he was as stupid as Betty always told him he was.

"I'll need a crowbar, or something." She held out a hand to him expectantly, and his eyes immediately snapped to her chest again. "If you have enough time to stare you have _more_ than enough time to start looking," she said coolly.

_Not_ _ **my**_ _damn fault._ _Let's hope you don't rip your shirt, too._ He grunted and went perusing around, finding what he needed. "Here." He handed her the heavy bar and leaned against the doorway as she set to work.

With a grunt, she slammed the honed edge of the rod into the crack of the safe, wiggling it back and forth for some leverage, and then leaned against the prybar with all her might. A squeak escaped her as the doorframe busted open dramatically with a firework of a **bang** , and she tumbled into some metal shelving. A spillage of pill bottles and bundles of cash crashed to the floor at her feet.

"Whoa! You okay, kid?" Cross ambled over to her just as she was grabbing purchase from a shelf to lean on. The shelf snapped, and she gave another yelp as Cross reached out to break her fall. The ghoul managed to grab her by the forearm, but a bottle rolled under his foot, and he ended up faltering into her.

Both crashed to the floor; the steel brackets riding out a domino effect and cascading around them. Evelyn was pinned beneath him in a manner that was much too suggestive for his comfortability.

Evelyn was covering her face with her hands and she was laughing hysterically. Her face was aflame in what he assumed was embarrassment, and when she finally calmed down and met his bewildered expression, she began to laugh loudly again.

"You're-you're-" She took a shaky breath. "-the _worst_ fallback guy, _ever_." She giggled. _"So especially bad_ _at everything."_

A sudden, overly accustomed heat flared in the pit of his abdomen. Her face was slightly pink now, and she was biting her lower lip and grinning foolishly at him. Those deep indigo eyes held him for a moment much too long; the warmth from her supple figure intoxicating.

His heart uncomfortably skipped a beat. _Getupgetupgetupgetup-_

But his body betrayed his thoughts, and he cupped the sides of her face tenderly with both hands, a patchy thumb tracing the small curve of her jawline. It was the first occurrence after a _very_ long time that he touched skin that soft.

She didn't protest, or, _God help him_ , smash his face in. Those lips were now slightly parted, and he felt her tremble in all the right places. He readjusted himself to straddle her hips firmly, and she released a breathy gasp. He was very much aware of how hard he had become, and considering from the angle he was sitting, he was sure she felt it too. One hand released the side of her face, boldly grabbing the underside of her shirt to hike it up and over her lingerie. That bone for an index fingertip lightly traced over a few scars he identified as bullet entry wounds, and he felt a mounting desire as she shivered, her bosom bouncing as she shifted beneath him.

_Well, fuck._ There was no going back now, and he wasn't sure he could stop unless she made it clear she wanted him to. With her crazy predisposition, he was risking death; this was probably the most paramount way he could ask to go out.

That hand now moved to her bra, and he pulled it down; enthralled at the sight of her breasts bobbing free. The women he had been sleeping with for the past couple of centuries either had nothing left, or just the remnants of pectoral muscle he was so accustomed to seeing. Once in a great while, someone would have half of a whole, but he didn't complain; he enjoyed them all. But now as he grabbed a handful of her and gave a light squeeze, the sultry moan he was rewarded with wiped all previous cards from the table.

He was so _fucked_ , and perhaps ruined, for the rest of his days.

Those insanely blue eyes were staring up at him with so much longing, now, and it was all he needed. The years of accumulated sexual experience set him to work rather quickly. He didn't know the last time he had grown so damn excited, _and_ he was stone-cold sober. As much as it hurt his pride, he wasn't entirely sure he would last very long.

Those smaller hands slowly came up to encircle around his biceps as the ghoul bent down and kissed her fully on the mouth, and she gasped pleasurably into him. Whatever lucid thoughts he once had were now reduced to a muddled mess, and his tongue wrapped skillfully around hers. The pressure from his throbbing erection was now beginning to grow painful, and he slipped a hand down to the cold buckle of his belt.

Before he could even begin to free himself, powerful hands gripped the backside of his jacket, and the ghoul was effortlessly lifted into the air. Evelyn gave a surprised squeak as his weight was suddenly removed, and her eyes widened in shock.

"Charon!"

_Oh, shit._

* * *

The ferryman was _extremely_ pissed off at this point. Not so much at Evelyn, or even the other _damn_ ghoul, but just in the general sense of things.

_**Hey, man, if you need someone to talk to, I'm here, ya know? You got friends, Charon. Don't have to go it alone all the time.** _

Their partnership had been comparatively efficient up to that point; he killed things, and she kept him good company. It was straight-forward and simple.

_**I mean, I get it. Ahzrukhal was a straight-up** _ **creep,** _**I can't imagine what it was like to work for the guy.** _

No. No one _really_ knew. No one had to play witness to the heinous acts he had committed, seen the strings and what they pulled for that grinning puppeteer. There was so much blood dripping from his hands; it was arduous to hold onto things.

In all honesty, he truly _did_ appreciate Evelyn. Much like her predecessor, she was genuinely kind and cared about his wellbeing. People like them were a few and far between in this Hell; he was lucky to have ended up in her service. But how could she not understand that? How could-

A thundering **bang** sounded in the far side of the plaza, and the ghoul dropped all sentimental thoughts and dispatched himself as swiftly as he could manage.

* * *

"Charon!"

In hindsight, the bounty hunter wasn't much of a threat…before.

Now, Charon vowed to himself that the slimy bastard would never so much as _look_ at Evelyn, ever again. He knew very well what the perverse merc wanted from his employer, but he didn't expect he was to act so damn _quickly_ on it. Then again, he didn't think she may have wanted it _too_. That stung him, in an unfamiliar way.

The ferryman's formidable grip directed Cross into the hallway across from them and launched him with all that his strength granted. Charon may not be as physically strong as his employer, but it was still rather impressive, especially considering the height and weight of the victim ghoul. The bounty hunter went sailing, crashing straight through the rotting drywall. Cross groaned as he slowly picked himself off the floor in a completely different room, the dusty air itching his throat into a cough.

Evelyn quickly refitted her top, tucking her exposed chest back inside its garment securely and yanking her top down. Charon was already making his way out of the storage room, and even though his back was to her, his murdering aura was palpable.

The bounty hunter's knee joints popped aloud as he struggled upright on his feet, wiping away at the debris that had collected itself over his person and giving a light shake.

"Charon, stop!" she shouted, her trembling voice piercing through his enraged entanglement of thoughts.

The ghoul froze on command. Evelyn stood before him protectively just as the glint of a gun sparkled through the damaged framing.

"Whoa, whoa-" Evelyn had one hand placed firmly onto Charon's chest, the other raised up in a surrendering fashion. "-back off."

"Just let me _shoot_ that motherfucker." The merc's buried anger had now risen forth like a vengeful spirit. The complete and utter loathing shared between the two ghouls was enough to drop a man dead. "What the _fuck_ is he to you, anyway?" he snarled.

"Calm down." Evelyn started slowly, her breathing heavy and eyes wide. "Go take a walk."

"A _**walk**_?" Cross chuckled spitefully at her, his thumb clicking the hammer back on the revolver.

Evelyn felt Charon's entire body tense underneath her palm. "I know you don't want to shoot us."

Cross grunted. Well, she was partially right. He had no intention whatsoever in causing her harm, _but_ …the ghoul she was shielding…Cross very much wanted to plant a bullet right between those burning eyes. Nonetheless, any foul play he committed realistically sentenced him a _dead man_. In no way could he kill her, especially after _that_. But offing her companion was a sure-fire death sentence; he honestly didn't know if she would hold herself back in revenge.

" _Fuck."_ The hammer was slid back into place, and the gun disappeared from view. _**"Fuck!"**_ He then stormed off, slamming the door open with so much force the trim cracked from its casing.

The sound of a loud commotion could be heard down the hall as Cross took his anger out on anything within striking distance.

Charon revolved his squinting glare back down to his employer, and she was bringing her fist up, decking him in the jaw like a man, **hard**.

" _What were you_ _ **thinking**_ _?"_ Evelyn shrieked out at him. "Are you fucking _stupid?!_ "

The force from her blow propelled him off his feet; her strength in that small frame always caught him off guard. He stumbled back inside the maintenance room, crashing into the fallen debris with a pained gasp. His jaw was effectively cracked in half.

At that moment, his brain **screamed** to retaliate; to protect his life at any cost, now that she had inflicted damage upon his person. It was a clear breach of their contract, and he was free to defend himself as he saw fit. The fluorescent light above him haloed as he dizzily blinked at her, her three silhouettes forming back into one. She was now sobbing, one arm hanging limp at her side as the other drew across her chest in a half-hug.

His shotgun was trapped beneath his bulk, and he groaned as gravity forced the heavy weight of his head back and his eyes closed. There was no cohesion to his thoughts, and he feared he would pass out at any moment. So, _this_ is what other men came to experience when she lashed out. They were all trivial pieces on the war table, and she had taken her croupier rake, coldly transposing him to join all the other damaged pawns.

The sensation of a burden bestriding him brought his hands impulsively up, but his movement was sluggish, and he could only focus on remaining conscious. Although, he gave himself some credit. He was lucky he wasn't _dead_. 

Wet drops splashed on his face, and he felt a flare of annoyance despite everything. Then there was a blossoming heat in his lower jaw, accompanied by an itching sensation; the calling card of a stimpak. His fingers curled inward as the throbbing pain now slowly receded into a dull ebb. With enough strength regained, he forced himself to sit upright, and Evelyn was slid down to settle in his lap.

"That **hurt,** " he rasped, gingerly working his jaw.

There were still tears flowing down her cheeks; the top of her shirt was soaked. "I'm-I didn't…I-"

_Ugh._ He **hated** crying Evelyn; it made him feel extremely uncomfortable. The barking thoughts of confronting her outright were now chained and locked away in the recess of his mind. He sighed noisily through the caverns of his nostrils.

"Was that something you wanted?" he asked.

"Wh-what…?" She rubbed her eyes roughly, the skin turning red. She sniffled loudly. "No, I don't _want_ to hurt you."

Charon growled. "That wasn't what I meant." And he glared at her disapprovingly.

She developed a ruddy shade and shamefully covered her face with her hands. "Why does it matter to you? I-um… _yes_." The last part came out so quietly he almost burst his eardrum straining to listen.

He internally groaned. From the very first day he began to travel with her, she had never requested the company of another man. Either way, he didn't care; her personal concern in sensual affairs was hers alone, so long as she wasn't put in harm's way. Besides, most men were off-put by her vicious tendencies, and the risk of dismemberment wasn't a direct turn-on. At least, not to most _sane_ men.

The mercenary… _however_.

He clenched his sore jaw so tightly the pain created stars in his eyes. _No; it was none of my business_. _I overreacted._

"Are…are you okay?" she whispered, and he rested his hands on her forearms.

"I have felt better," he snarked. At the sight of her quivering bottom lip, he gave an exhausted sigh. "I will be _fine_."

She leaned her body against him, and he allowed himself a quiet moment of respite, resting his chin atop her head and closing his eyes.


	7. A Progressing Affair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They bang, that is all.

How in God's irradiated world was he supposed to be around her after _that_?! It was perhaps the most sinful cock tease he had ever received. He was sure she felt just as miffed as he was, the sexual tension now radiating between them was so painfully acute, he was half-tempted to just strip her and be done with it. _Anything_ to bust the awkward cloud suffocating over them would have been surely welcomed.

_To hell with it all_.

A drawer from a cash register gave off a loud _ring_ as he slammed it shut. Well, if there was _one_ good thing to come of it, her damn bodyguard seemed to completely shunt his existence off the radar.

The ferryman habitually rubbed at his jaw, wincing. The merc mentally grinned. Good to know he wasn't the _only_ one to get fucked up.

After finding odds and ends of assorted things, they continued on through the procession of stores.

" _La Fleur,"_ Evelyn read the faded words with a distinct accent. "Either a boutique, or a florist; probably nothing good inside." Regardless of her statement, she bent under the broken archway and stepped inside.

"You speak French?" Cross inhaled on the cigarette he had lit, rubbing his shoulders and looking around the room. He felt Charon ghost behind him in the shadows.

"Do _you_?" she inquisitively redirected at him, opening a drawer that held no contents.

" _Nem."_ He grinned at her, puffing a large _O_ ring through the air. _"Csak Angol és Magyar."_

She paused and her face screwed up in concentration. "That's…Hungarian. Are you Hungarian?"

"Half," he admitted. "My father was." His finger swiped a film of dirt off a surface, their easy conversation fishing that intimate moment they had shared. "Don't know many people who could deduce that correctly."

"An educated guess." She shrugged.

"Yeah, _damn_ educated," he muttered, eyeing a hint of skin as she stretched on the balls of her feet for a high shelf. "What other languages do you know?"

Charon had come to her side, easily grabbing at the box her fingertips were scraping at. He set it down for her on the table; the dust that billowed making her sneeze.

"Sarcasm," she replied. That earned a snort.

The lid was lifted off, and her eyes widened. A small book was pulled from the depths of the carton, and she gently overturned it in her hands. The ferryman was peering over her shoulder at the cover with minor interest.

Cross couldn't make out the words from his position. "You find Moses's Bible?"

She flipped the pages open, ignoring his quip. "It's _The Great Gatsby_ , by F. Scott Fitzgerald…I haven't read it since I was a child."

The name rang a bell somewhere in the rotted jumble of his brain, but he didn't care much for it. " _Educated,_ " he reaffirmed, smashing the butt end of his cigarette against the counter. "Let's go check out that warehouse."

* * *

"Hey."

_Evelyn, what have I told you, time and time again? I do not think even Aristotle had as much a fuss with Alexander. You are no great king of Macedonia, but you can at least pretend to have the responsibilities of one…which, I say ironically, is perhaps your greatest attribute, and your worst downfall; your imagination._

"Hey, kid."

_**I do not want to do this anymore, Mother! I-** _

" _Jesus_ wake up!" The authoritative rasp broke her from her thoughts, and she startled back faintly. "See a goddamn spaceship or somethin'?"

She huffed peevishly at the ghoul for harassing her private thoughts. The soft texture of her hair she was caressing in between her lips fell. " _What_?"

"I said, _would you mind openin' this_ _ **damn**_ _door_?" Cross repeated irritably. "Handle is locked." After a moment, he added. "Want a crowbar for this one too?"

Charon grumbled something under his breath, shoving the other ghoul to the side and encompassing the metal knob in his grip. With a forcible turn, he broke the lock and put his shoulder into the wedge of the frame, throwing his weight into it. The door shuddered and then lurched open. Ignoring both of them, he went inside.

"And what exactly are _you_ good for?" Evelyn rudely asked the merc, moving to follow her companion.

The merc cracked his neck to peer at the doorway; the ferryman could be heard stomping around inside. With a quick sidestep, he intercepted her route. "Been meanin' to show you," he answered suggestively.

Those stonewashed hazel eyes were boring into her, and she flushed hotly from the intense hunger they emanated.

_**They** _ _cannot touch you; they will kneel in the dust before your tower, but you must not answer their calls. Keep hidden away, my Evelyn. Do not let down your hair._

That massive gray hand came to her neck, his rough fingertips tracing around and nestling into the base of her braid.

_For a man that wants is a man that tries. He will chant his song until you have memorized the words, but they are poison. It is his anagram for a slow death. Do not listen; scream, and curdle his blood with your harpy cries._

"Just make sure the hound is chained somewhere this time," he muttered, reluctantly bringing his extremity back to his side.

Evelyn let out the breath she was subconsciously holding, and he spun away to walk inside.

**My hair is shorn, Mother; he scaled the walls on his own.**

* * *

The Vault-Tec warehouse ended up being a bust.

" _Seriously_ , I found emails from disgruntled employees and their complaints about the plumbing in the bathroom! One terminal had a log in it that was an old Pre-War video game." Evelyn was ranting inside the manager's office. "This place used to be a fucking supply chain. A _supply_ chain, and yet nothing for Pip-Boy's! Just-just vault-suits and fucking pens!"

She plopped into a chair and rotated around, angrily clicking a ballpoint she filched.

"Well, we tried. Give yourself that much." Cross was perusing through a desk, his cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. "Too bad you can't hack into the supervisor's; bet it had some intel."

The clicking ceased. "Guess we're _both_ bad at something."

An indiscernible clutter of words vented angrily from Charon as he exhaled and arched his back in a stretch.

"C'mon, big guy. Tell me how you _really_ feel," Evelyn goaded.

The ferryman grated his jaw, deliberately.

Cross blew out an extended stream of smoke, filling a drawer before closing it shut. He flicked the ashes to the side. His mind was wandering on its own, again, and he was thinking back to the taste of her mouth.

"Can we talk?" He suddenly pivoted to her, hitching a thumb over his shoulder to her towering stalker. " _Alone._ "

Evelyn bit her lower lip and then nodded. Her eyes flitted to meet Charon's. "I'll come to get you when we're done. I'll meet you outside."

The ghoul hesitated in proceeding; his knuckles cracked loudly as he formed his hands into fists. "I shall await your return," he replied dully, turning on his heel to leave.

After Charon's heavy footfalls receded away, the bounty hunter scratched the back of his head and squinted down at her. She was blushing madly and refusing to meet his eyes.

Neither of them uttered a word.

Cross cleared his throat and inhaled on his cigarette. "So." He watched her take a seat on the edge of a table, and she was distracting herself with undoing her braid.

" _So,_ " she repeated, her attention enraptured by her handiwork.

The air was so stifling between them, he was sure it could be bottled and sold. He exhaled the hit, and then tossed the remainder of his smoke to the ground. _Fuck it, why am I getting so worked up over this? If this goes on any longer, we'll_ _ **both**_ _go crazy._

Evelyn eyed him suspiciously as he walked up to her, coming to a stop when her kneecaps began to dig into him. He rested the palm of his hands on her inner thighs, slowly pushing her legs apart. Keeping his contact firmly on her, his hands then traveled to straddle her waist, and he pulled her groin flush to his. For the second time that day, he grew dangerously heated and stiff at their close contact.

Evelyn's breaths were short and shallow; those oceans for eyes followed the movements of his hands as they came up to unfasten her jacket, those hefty fingers undressing her with practiced ease. A shiver ran down her spine as those jagged fingertips gently traced down the sides of her shoulders; her jacket falling to the table. Her shirt was hitched up and came over her head to be discarded to the side. With one hand, Cross reached around her chest and unclasped the strap of her lingerie. The bra soon joined the growing pile.

The mercenary abruptly paused and stared down at her so intensely she felt her face flare up like a furnace. He then gave a hint of a smile and bent down to kiss her so passionately she cried out in surprise. Those hands were ablaze, now. Whilst he kept her lips busy with his own, his deft fingers worked on removing her boots, socks, and finally coming to the buckle of her pants. She was making little pleasurable noises as his tongue was entangled with hers and he sucked on her lower lip.

She helped him by lifting herself from the table as he shimmied her jeans and underwear straight to the floor, wasting no time on his own. His leather jacket met with the mess on the ground, and his pants soon bundled around his ankles. She was wet and warm when he pulled her towards himself again, and he felt her palms dig into his chest to stop. Their lips came apart with an audible _smack_ ; their heavy breathing seemed to fill the room.

"Wait, u-um-" she stuttered slightly, her bottom lip tinged red from his abuse on her.

His cock was in full view for her now, flush and rigid against her thigh, digging into her skin. It was bigger than she expected, and she blinked at him nervously.

He was taken back for a moment, and a thought occurred to him. "Is this…are you-?"

Evelyn shook her head, her wild mane of hair bouncing around her shoulders like a tawny waterfall. "No-no. It's just…been some time. Take it slow, for a bit?"

He nodded down at her, mentally unsure if he _could_ , honestly. His dissatisfaction from earlier was gnawing at him to get the job done, but he didn't want to ruin her affair, either. If it went well enough between them this round, he may be able to explore her more thoroughly in the future.

One large hand planted itself steadfastly on her hip, directing her towards himself. He felt her tremble under his touch, and so he brought his second hand up and tenderly clasped her jaw in his palm, his fingers stroking her face. Their eyes closed as he kissed her again, a little more slowly this time, and he felt her relax slightly. He removed his hand from her face and rubbed a hard nipple with his thumb, moving in slow clockwise circles.

Her moaning was escalating, and it only fueled his incessant, immediate need for her. It took a _lot_ of willpower to not simply have his way with her so forcibly. But her body was beginning to relax under him, and he decided she was ready.

He groaned aloud as he slowly entered her; she was so hot and incredibly tight, for a split second he wondered if this is what sex used to _really_ be like. An internal blinding flash temporarily distracted his thoughts, and he focused on his breathing as he slowly slid himself back out. Her hands were gripping his shoulders rather painfully, and he cupped her chin to look up at him.

"Don't break me, okay?" he breathily joked, kissing her forehead before going down to the base of her neck. He sucked on the skin there as he re-entered her, and she whimpered lustfully in his ear.

After a few more agonizingly careful strokes, Evelyn slowly widened her legs around him, grabbing at his hand and sucking on his fingers. She splayed her other palm firmly on the table for support, arching herself further into him. He growled at her for distracting his careful rhythm. He gripped her hips with both hands and experimentally shoved himself roughly inside, the feeling of his shaft being completely enveloped making him grunt. She didn't cry out or appear distressed, so he quickened his tempo with longer, harder strokes, and he immediately regretted his decision.

_She_ thoroughly enjoyed it. She was kissing the inside of his palm while breathing out those ball-busting noises and moans.

_He_ , on the other hand, was so pent up from his previous excitement that day that he forgot he was practically done for the moment he entered inside of her. He couldn't force himself to slow, though, even if he tried. The building pressure was too intense for him; his fingers created indents in her smooth skin, and he bottomed himself out in her as he came.

The sheer number of stars that filled his head was enough to temporarily blind him, and he held onto her as he rode out the euphoric wave that pulsated down to his toes. When the high had finally settled, he gently released himself, shivering as he withdrew, and glimpsed down at her coy visage.

_Well, damn._ _That_ was embarrassing, to say the least. It was the quickest fuck he had ever experienced, even if it was one of the best. The final, gratifying release after a few days of chasing and an extremely bothersome tease was the most work he ever had to put in a woman.

As enjoyable as it had been for him, though, he _always_ made sure his ladies were taken care of first; it was only good bedside manners. So here he was, the woman he wanted most finally at his fingertips, and his performance was anything but deliverable. For the first time, he was at a loss for words. Instead, he stroked her leg with his fingertips, carefully regarding her expression at him.

She smiled teasingly. "I was just getting started."

He narrowed his eyes as his ego took the blow. "Payback; for that night you cracked me."

She threw her head back and laughed, her breasts bouncing along. "I'm actually surprised you can move so well after that; it's only been a few days."

"I'm still sore," he confessed.

_Fuck_. It really was only a few days ago. Whatever initial anger he held for her had long dissipated, though. Damn women and the witchy charm they held over him. This dame nearly killed him, and here he was with his literal dick in his hand for her. He would _never_ learn.

"That was fun." She scooted backward from him and gathered her clothes, moving to redress herself. "I have to clean up, so, kick rocks."

The merc reached down to hoist up his pants. "Dismissed just like that, huh?"

She gave a small shrug, clasping her bra behind her and tossing her curly hair over one shoulder. Besides the lingerie, she was practically naked, and he wanted to memorize the image in his brain for the rest of his damned eternal life.

Why on earth she would choose someone like him to be so intimate with, he had no idea. And truthfully, he didn't really want to ask.

He was afraid she may not have an answer.

* * *

The mood between them was…different.

_Relaxed._ Charon concluded. A little over twenty minutes had passed since he was delegated to waiting outside for his employer's return. When Evelyn had stepped through the door and into the late afternoon sunshine, she had met his eyes briefly and quickly looked down to her feet. The mercenary followed along behind her, and he was… _close_. As though they were adrift along the sea, and she was his anchor; he was brushing against her, in a way that made Charon wary.

His first thought was to react with violence; assaulting the ghoul and filling him with lead was usually his go-to strategy. But before he could relay his thoughts into action, he thought back to their scuffle just hours ago, and he halted himself. There was no direct threat to his employer, and he did not wish to make Evelyn upset again due to his illogical behavior. Besides, upon observing her reaction to the bounty hunter's proximity with herself, she did not seem to mind. She almost appeared… _content_.

He grumbled at himself. Whatever conversation occurred between them had apparently put her in a lighter mood. Happy Evelyn was much preferable to violent Evelyn. And the relationship the two were beginning to form was ultimately none of his business…but if the merc were to undergo unfortunate circumstances and succumb to death, well, it would be no great loss.

_**So, there's this guy I used to be friends with-I mean, he was kind of a punk, back when we were kids. But I think he needs help, and I told him it would be o-kay to travel with us, ya know? Anyways, wait until you meet him; his name is Butch. Just, go easy on him. He gets worked up pretty quick-** _

"You good, big guy?" His eyes had to refocus on the face directly below him, and she was frowning. "You kind of zoned out there, for a sec."

Charon snorted and uncrossed his arms. "Yes. Shall we continue?"

"Suppose." She twirled around, grabbing at the straps of her pack. "Where to?"

The mercenary adjusted his jacket. "Ain't much between here and Hark's Regional Park. I suggest we continue for as long as we can."

A nod was given, and they set off.


	8. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quote is from "The Great Gatsby" by F. Scott Fitzgerald.

_Shsk_. The crisp sound of a page being flipped gave distant percussion to the wayward cries of wild dogs; the shadows from the fire swayed to the music. They stretched long; their transparent fingers writhed into nothingness.

That hair was wild and free from its confinements; the brunette shade appeared copper in the orange glow. A single strand was twirled around her finger as she dedicated her entire attention to the words she was reading, and sometimes her mouth would upturn in a secret smile, that captive thread brushing against her lips.

_Shsk._

A bottle met with the mercenary's mouth, and he took a swig of the alcoholic contents, watching her devour another page of her book. He was trying to keep holy thoughts, but the drinking wasn't helping. _Get your shit together,_ he chastised himself, setting the bottle down to the side. A large crackle fizzed in the fire.

Setting his idle hands as the devil playthings, he reached inside his backpack and grabbed out the necessary items to clean his weaponry. The mold of his palm fit perfectly around the worn handle of his blade, and he inspected the honed edge in the firelight.

A loud breath blew from across the fire. Evelyn was now rolled onto her back, her book resting against her chest. Her arms were widened above her as she stared contentedly at the starry sky.

"Book that borin'?" the merc inquired, a thumb lightly running along the dagger for any fissures.

"No," she replied, closing her eyes. "Just read a nice passage. I'm trying to memorize the words; they were lovely."

"Oh."

"Do you want to hear it?"

The merc grabbed a whetstone. "You're not goin' to start readin' the entire book, are ya?" His tone was a little gruffer than he intended.

She visibly bristled. "No." And that was all he was given, as she rolled her back to him. The book was opened in her hands again, and she completely ignored him.

_Yeah, nice_. He internally kicked himself. "So, are we goin' to hear it? This piece you like so much?"

"Forget I said anything."

The merc observed the sharpness of his blade. "Educate me."

She sighed angrily, her shoulders making a dramatic rise and fall. "Educate _yourself_."

_Sarcastic brat._ The merc grunted and sheathed his knife. With a rise from his perch on a boulder, he felt the hawklike gaze of the stoic bodyguard immediately latch onto him. He raised his hands in mock surrender, sidestepping around the fire and coming to a crouch before her.

She narrowed her eyes at him, lowering the book to her side. " _What._ "

He held out a hand, motioning to the novel. "Tryin' to _educate_ myself."

She sat upright, crisscrossing her legs and snapping the book shut. "Here. Have fun," she sniped at him, handing him the worn piece of literature.

The faded cover came to rest in his outstretched palm, and he flipped it open. "Which page?"

"I don't know. Figure it the fuck out."

_Goddamn. All this because I can't shut my damn mouth_. The merc grumbled and raised an eyebrow muscle down at her. "Fine." His back cracked as he turned and sat close beside her, their knees overlapping and his left arm coming to drape across her shoulders.

The heat from the ferryman's gaze was nearly burning into his spine.

"Show me," he rasped, handing her the book back, his left hand pointing to the pages.

Her face was on fire from his sudden physical interaction- perhaps due to embarrassment for Charon having to bear witness. The merc didn't care; the bodyguard wasn't hellbent on keeping him away from her anymore, and they had already established their lines in the sand. They just happened to be perpendicular.

The skin of her fingers brushed the leathery exterior that was now his flesh, and he could feel their light shaking as she received the hardcover from him. She was purposefully averting his gaze, keeping her eyes trained on the book. She bit her bottom lip as the pages fluttered open, and she deftly flipped through in search.

The left fingers of his hand involuntarily stroked her cheek and her breathing hitched. He was extremely tempted in kissing her at that moment, but an obnoxious grumble behind them quelled his fondling. _Bastard,_ he growled inwardly, his eyes returning to the open book she was now running her index finger along.

"Here," she announced, leaning slightly into his side as she held the page up to him.

He squinted at the words her finger was underlining. " _Everyone suspects himself of at least one of the cardinal virtues, and this is mine: I am one of the few honest people that I have ever known."_

Well, that surely didn't apply to _him._

"Hmm." Was all he replied with, catching her dreamy stare. "You like that, huh?"

"How can you _not_?" she questioned, her body folding into him as she was leafing through for other passages. She was now flush against him, the heat of their bodies mingling. "This was his greatest work; the tragedy of love and the lyrical words he conveys, it's a wonderful read."

They sat in silence for a moment, huddled together with their backs to the firelight as she was browsing through earlier chapters. The smell of bourbon laced with smoke immersed her senses as she felt the waves of his breathing down her neck. She nestled the side of her face into his chest, enjoying his warmth.

"Evelyn." A rasp behind them made her head turn, and Cross made a face of displeasure at the interruption. "It is late; you should get some sleep."

_Asshole._ The merc gave a loud sigh to indicate his thoughts as she wiggled out from under him.

"Coming from the man who never sleeps." She poked at the crimson ghoul.

Cross gripped his jaw with one hand and cracked his neck. "Freakishly tall _and_ freakishly insomniac," he muttered under his breath, dusting his jeans as he rose from his spot.

* * *

_**So, Charon, you know that girl-uh-woman, Lucy West? She's pretty cute, huh? I think she wants me to ask her out, like, on a date, you know? I mean, I really** _ **think** _**she does, but-ugh, I don't wanna screw it up! What should I say to her? Dad never really-** _

A long-winded howl sounded off in the distance; far enough away to warrant no threat. Evelyn mumbled something unintelligible in her sleep; another dream played itself vibrantly behind closed eyelids. She burrowed further into her sleeping bag until only a tumble of hair remained visible.

_**She said yes! Oh, man! Uh, what do I wear? Should I wear something nice?! Or-or do I give her anything? Girls like-um-things, right? Charon, you have to help me!** _

A _clink_ could be heard as the mercenary was preoccupied unloading rounds from his gun; the array of cleaning equipment he had off to the side reminding the crimson ghoul he had his own weaponry he should be tending to.

_**Whew! I think it went pretty well. Well, I was so nervous I accidentally spilled a bowl of noodles on myself, but she laughed and said I was funny! She said she wants to see me again when we get back from Rivet City, can you believe that?!** _

Charon did not know why the mercenary aggravated him so personally. All of his previous employer's flames were seen as neutral personalities; they were harmless in respect to being dangerous, and the boy had his fun. The only one that had actually posed any sort of threat was Sarah Lyons, but even she had fallen for the boy's charm, and more than once the two shared intimate moments together. Charon did not feel animosity towards any of the women. He was just there to ensure the safety and wellbeing of his employer, and he had.

_**Have you ever, like, been in love? O-kay, I know it sounds cheesy, but seriously, have you? C'mon, man, you can't tell me you haven't been alive for over two hundred years and never been with someone that you didn't-just…not stop thinking about!** _

The fire cackled, the fresh tinder he had supplied for it burning hotly.

_**Well, when you think you've found them, let me know! We'll make it work; I swear!** _

Charon did not find them. And he did not fuel the boy's incessant fantasies about his lack of personal relationships with others. Charon did not think in that mindset; he was a trained combatant, highly skilled, and well versed in the art of inflicting death upon others. Sure, the ghoul was still a man, and he could acknowledge an attractive woman when he saw one, but it was akin to appreciating a colorful sunset. Some things held beauty in them, and even the ferryman could take notice of it.

Evelyn was one of them. From the moment he had laid eyes on her, he had appreciated her features...and from the moment she had displayed her brute strength, he had respected her. She was just as dangerous as he was, in terms of killing, and she was capable of handling her own affairs.

And then the weeks had passed, his larger boot prints devouring her smaller ones as he followed her journey across the country. The Capital Wasteland had been reduced to a dot on the map as he provided his services to her, their newborn partnership finding all the cracks and molds that needed to be filled. He discovered she had a vicious temper that was easily inflamed; a stick of dynamite that if you did not release in time, would blow back at you. He knew nothing of her life story or personal vendetta; Evelyn was simply Evelyn. He gained knowledge with what he had experienced with her.

They worked well. He taught her how to clean and maintain any weapon they came upon; she would tell him epic stories of the world long left behind. They drew blood and wiped away the sweat; their muscles tired and feet sore as they came to terms on how to operate with one another. She did not ask personal questions about his life, and he did not with hers. She respected his judgment and leaned on his experiences of certain things, and she appeared satisfied with his sole company. They fulfilled his contract to its expected extent; he was _happy_ with her.

Perhaps that was the reason he did not approve of the mercenary.

The bounty hunter more than well enough appreciated her; it was clear. The ghoul was just as known for his affinities with women as he was for his mercenary work; more than a few ghouls they had sought information from told beyond what was necessary. He clearly sought one thing from female company, and Charon wasn't ignorant; the merc displayed an obvious sexual interest in Evelyn. But that is what had surprised him, after finding the ghoul molesting her in the maintenance room, and then only coming to discover that it was consensual from _both_ sides. Evelyn was a beautiful creature; the bounty hunter was anything _but_. After all of the men that had confessed their sentiments for her and for her to say nothing and let it die on the wind, why _him_?

As much as he hated to admit it- it almost scared him. Would she leave him to another, now that she had found someone she was interested in? The bounty hunter provided some level of affection for her, as was evident by their fireside caresses. That had _infuriated_ him greatly, but he did not want to give Evelyn any more reason to consider him unwarranted.

Charon knew she cared; that much he could reassure himself with. The way she regarded him at times was almost uncomfortable; she looked at him like no one ever had before, and he did not know what it had meant. But now he had caught that same look given to the mercenary, and the ferryman did not know whether he had failed in some manner to make her act out in this way.

He internally sighed. The dawn would be nearing in a few hours' time, and there was still some work to be done.

* * *

Thomas Ridges was not in a particularly good mood that morning.

For the most part, the glowing ghoul was an easy fellow to be around; polite, reserved, and patient in nature. The men and women in his squad respected his natural authority, and they rallied under his strategic mindset. It was quite rare, even for ghouls, to meet a glowing one with all of their faculties maintained, and _exceptionally_ rare for one to have such a brilliant conviction on things.

So, when something did happen to bury under his rug that he could not sweep out, they gave a wide berth.

"For the last time, Carmen, I _don't_ know where Rick is, or why; asking me again won't get you closer to an answer," Thomas drawled out, the heel of his palm rubbing at his forehead. The soft glow he emitted seemed to fill the dim office space that he was being retained in. "I'm head of security; not his nanny."

"Don't you think the _head of security_ should have an idea as to where the _Mayor_ _of_ _Braxton_ has disappeared to?! _Why_ aren't you worried; you should be out there looking for him!" The female ghoul shrieked, waving her hands dramatically in front of his face.

The glow from his eyes narrowed down at her with slight irritation. He was beginning to feel agitated from their conversation. "I have more pressing issues to tend to at the moment than to waste time on _one_ man. Rick is more than capable of handling himself; he's probably just sleeping off last night's bender."

"But he _always_ comes back before eight. It's almost noon!" she cried at him, beginning to pace around the said mayor's office. "I need to know he's alright! Just-just, fuck, send someone out to find him, bring him back here! Send _everyone_! I don't care who-"

Thomas sighed, waiting for the crazed woman to settle from her theatrical woes. A knock resounded at the door, and they both turned.

"What is it?" Carmen snapped as a ghoul began to step inside. "Did you find him?"

"Yes ma'am," the ghoul responded, opening the door fully to reveal the hungover figure of her lover.

"Rick!" Carmen announced exasperatedly, rushing to the man as he was set in a chair. "Darling!" As soon as the man was seated, she threw her hand back and slapped him as hard as she could manage. " _You fucker!_ "

The two then erupted into the final acts of that morning's scene: the usual ugly swearing and profuse apologizing. Thomas made his own exit; the duo didn't pay him any mind as he closed the door behind him.

The rumbling sky of dark clouds mirrored his mood upon exiting the town hall. A rosy figure leaning against a column kicked off as soon as he passed, the couple climbing down the steps in synchronization.

"So?" his companion inquired. "Shall I call off the militia?"

Thomas snorted. "Doesn't matter; they would just get sent back out tomorrow."

The two walked a few blocks until the Braxton Police Station came into view, and Thomas felt a tug on his arm. He stopped, inclining his head to the side. "Yes?"

"Do you want to get a drink, tonight? My place?"

"Penny-" The glowing ghoul paused, thinking his words through. "Sure, tonight sounds good."

Penny rewarded him with a small smile, leaning forward to plant a kiss upon his cheek. "Well let's hurry up and get today over with then, shall we?"

Thinking to their current plate of issues, Thomas reluctantly nodded. "Let's."

* * *

_**Hey. Why so down, today? Tell you what, why don't we go sit in the study and you can recite to me what your mother is having you read…oh, so it is Othello, today. Good choice.** _

Evelyn's eyes fluttered open, the image of the first man she had grown to love fading from her view. She nestled into her sleeping roll for a few more undisturbed moments of reprieve, clinging to his memory before the nostalgia abated completely. It had been a long time since he had plagued her thoughts; perhaps the sparks between Cross and herself had ignited the recessed memories within.

"You goin' to sleep all day?" A rough voice asked, nudging her with a boot. "Get up."

"I'll snap your ankle," Evelyn growled in warning, removing her cover to stretch. Her spine popped pleasingly, and she yawned. " _Ugh_ , what _time_ is it?" The sky was still dark.

"Early," the merc answered, the tip of his cigarette glowing as he inhaled deeply.

She gazed up at him, the ghost of another taking his form.

_**It's already noon, Evelyn. Your mother is out for the day, and she wishes for you to begin memorizing the study lesson…well, to be honest, that** _ **does** _**sound preferable to French conjugations. Perhaps after your lessons…okay, so** _ **before** _**and** _ **after** _ **. No, I'm not complaining-** _

A sharp hook tugged at her heart, and she angrily yanked it out. He was _gone_ ; the dead did not need any more of her tears.

"Any particular reason?" she asked as she sat up, caressing her scalp and reaching to the side for her boots.

"Yeah; can't sleep." A puff of smoke was blown forth. "Let's get goin'."

Evelyn whirled her head around, unsure if the mercenary was joking or not. Seeing her companions already packed and waiting for her, she hurriedly went about collecting her things.


	9. The Witching Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More sex towards the end of the chapter. And the stanza of poetry is by WB Yeats 'When You Are Old'. The last line of this chapter is quoted from Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet'.

The hours passed.

The sun tracked their journey; their first impasse a few molerats scavenging from their burrow, their wrinkly, pink skin visible on the horizon. Evelyn struggled at practicing her aim with the rifle, wasting all three shots.

The mercenary snorted at her poor marksmanship. "Couldn't hit water if you fell out of a boat."

The rifle was reloaded angrily, and she thrust it at him. " _Fine_ , let's see _you_ do any better. It's windy." Her face was ruddy from embarrassment.

The merc accepted her challenge, eyeing the mutated vermin through the scope before turning and walking back a considerable distance the way they had come. He then veered left and continued.

"What the fuck is he doing? That's way too far of a shot to take," Evelyn questioned uncertainly. "Right?"

Charon said nothing. He mentally wondered if the bounty hunter could pull off the shot, if what he deduced was correct.

They watched in silence as Cross laid down, setting the rifle into position. A few minutes passed as Evelyn was about to voice her doubts again when the volley screamed past. Both heads turned as the bullet whizzed straight through all three molerats, their position nearly a straight line from the merc's site.

The mercenary returned to them, relinquishing the sniper rifle with a smug smirk. "You're right; it was windy."

"Shut up," Evelyn bit out, laying out the wrapping. "I'm just better close range."

Both had different interpretations to that statement, and the merc dropped his knowing smile when she glowered at him. He cleared his throat, fishing for a cigarette.

They continued on without any more distractions, the sandy outcropping of the wastes evolving slowly into a forestry landscape.

"Alright, right around here should be…there." The merc indicated to an incredibly faded regional park sign, graffiti colorfully reading _HARKS PARK- DONT FEED YOW GUYS_

"I'm reading this three different ways," Evelyn muttered to herself.

"There's a cabin a few miles in- it's pretty secluded." The merc stepped over a dead thicket, the branches crunching loudly under his weight. "Stop there for the night."

"Yeah, _secluded,_ " she provoked him, grinning as he sighed crossly. "Bet these raiders will be in for a nasty surprise."

"It'll give you a chance for more target practice." Cross watched a rock sail by a foot from his face. "On second thought, stick to that close range."

Evelyn was already marching alone into the forest, leaving both ghouls in her wake.

Cross cupped his mouth with both hands. "Wrong way…still the wrong way… _damnit_ woman-there _are_ yao guai in these woods."

It took an hour of traversing through the forest until the cabin came into view, and the trio crouched behind cover to assess the situation thoroughly this time. Nothing appeared to have disturbed the area around the abandoned ranger station for quite some time, so Charon delegated it upon himself to scope out the building more thoroughly. Once the ferryman had disappeared inside, the mercenary stole a glance beside himself. Evelyn's eyes were muddled with worry as they stared at the empty doorway where her bodyguard had previously been; her bottom lip was being ravaged as she chewed on it.

It had been a while since they were finally alone again.

"He'll be fine," the ghoul grumbled, reaching down and cupping her chin to redirect her gaze.

She gave a small nod, and the rosy blossoming of the skin around her lower lip stood out to him. Without a second thought, he bent down and kissed her firmly, his other hand coming around to encircle around her neck, his dark grey thumb stroking her clavicle.

Her lips moved with his for a few moments, before she pulled back from him. "Are you serious?! Not right now!" she hissed, removing his hold on her and returning her attention back to the cabin.

The ferryman reappeared only a minute after, motioning for them to advance.

The bounty hunter just grumbled irately as she parkoured over their cover, his eyes tracking her hurried steps. With a gruff snort, he got to his feet and followed after them.

The ranger station had been previously scavenged many a time, now its only purpose was serving as an adequate shelter from the elements of nature. Ruined furniture was randomly assorted in some places against the walls; a fizzed-out terminal that had not been powered in decades. Someone before them had placed candles around to offer meager lighting; the wax from several having dripped all over the floor.

"Charming," Evelyn said, removing her heavy pack from her shoulders. With a _thud_ , the pack landed on a tired floorboard, its sigh reverberating around the room. "At least nobody's home this time."

"There's a small lake on the east side of this place; water's fuckin' cold but it's rad-free." The merc dropped his own bag beside hers, sauntering to a rotted framed window and shutting it closed. The splintering of dead wood coated his rough hands, and he sailed his palms against each other. "No mirelurks, _this time_."

A miffed puff of air dispelled behind him. "Good. I don't want to chance your cooking again."

The merc chuckled. "I'm goin' to check out the waters, just to be sure."

* * *

"You're bruised," the ferryman acknowledged, his ignorance of the situation making itself known. His hand swiped at her jacket and he gently pulled it down to reveal more of the purple skin on her neck. "What happened?"

"Must have been when I fell…earlier." Her face was prominently bright red, and her voice slightly trembled.

The hand fell away. "You are a _horrible_ liar."

She looked away for just a moment, and he turned to the side to track her gaze. Even if she wouldn't verbally tell him, her body language always sung like a golden canary. His eyes landed on the backside of the bounty hunter in the distance.

" **Did he hurt you?"** The tone of his voice was so murderous Evelyn instinctively drew back.

"No-he didn't hurt me." No lie, there. "We-uh-got together…"

He grunted and shook his head, his mind stubbornly refusing to make sense of it. _"What?"_

"We had sex, okay?" she snapped, her stance awkward. " _Jesus_."

The epiphany at her words felt like a solid punch to the gut. The ghoul worked his mouth open to speak, and then slammed it shut so forcefully it startled her. Without saying another word, he turned away from her and marched resolutely into the forest to disappear. The silence he left behind was deafening.

Evelyn huffed to herself angrily at his departure, an unease worming into her gut. He made it seem as though she had _betrayed_ him, somehow. The notion didn't make sense, and she exhaled loudly, imagining her inner turmoil expelling with it.

The merc was still off at the edge of the lake, oblivious to the drama that was being played without him. Evelyn shoved her hands in the pockets of her leathers and squinted at his enormous figure. His hands had found purchase on the windowsill of her tower, and she could not find it in her to push him back out. With a sad sigh, she began back towards the cabin just as he was turning to stare after her.

* * *

Night had fallen, and the temperature followed suit. A cloud of air was made visible as Evelyn childishly imagined herself as some great creature born of myths; the expenditure of her deep breathing made her lightheaded. The steam she produced fogged up the window she was staring through; the angst she felt earlier gnawing at her like hounds at their bones.

Charon had refused to converse with her unless absolutely necessary, and he had appointed himself to guard the station from an appropriate distance outside. She did not know what to say to him at this point, and any anger she managed to summon was merely washed away like a cold tide.

Footsteps sounded behind her; the floorboards creaked under Cross's weight to announce his company. "Is he comin' inside? It's fuckin' freezin' out there."

"No," Evelyn simply responded, taking the tip of her index finger and drawing two eyes and a mouth on the fogged pane. It was frowning. "He says he's fine…I told him about us."

The merc blew out a breath. "Surprised he hasn't _shot_ me."

"He won't shoot you," she replied curtly. "He's just…he's just _Charon_."

Cross didn't immediately say anything, and Evelyn could hear the familiar rattle of his cigarette carton. "How'd ya two meet, anyway?"

The _shrick_ of his lighter filled the space of her words, and she reflected back while drumming her fingers along the windowsill. "How did you get that scar?" She tore her gaze away from the pitch-black of the world to regard him. His eyes were slits; the wavering candlelight gave off an eerie illumination.

"Is this a tit-for-tat question?" his gravelly voice growled, snake-like smoke curling around the holes of his nostrils.

The abrupt hostility made her bristle, and she brushed past him. "Forget I asked."

A strong forearm enveloped her waist, and she shot him a warning glance. However, his eyes were fully closed, and he reached his free hand up to balance his cigarette between his middle and index finger. A swirl of white haze was artfully blown to the side, and when he finally opened his eyelids, those hazel irises were despondent. "It's somethin' I don't care for," was all he offered, "and I like to keep it that way."

Evelyn blushed from his attentions, the memory of the previous day bursting to the forefront of her mind as his purchase on her tightened. Those fingers had gone rogue and were exploring across her waist, finally coming to a stop when she laid a hand on his bicep.

"Sorry, then," she apologized. After a moment of consideration, she tipped herself upwards on her toes and planted her lips on his mouth; he removed his hand from her abdomen to grasp the back of her head securely in his palm. With a light push on his chest, she broke away from him and was met with his mused expression.

"I have to know something. I'll be right back." The words only deepened his mystified look, and she felt his stare dig into her back as she jogged outside to greet the cold, night air.

_You always were selfish. You cannot have it_ _**all**_ _._

She knew that, she did. It was human nature, to want, and it was her conflicting emotions that drove her deeper into the encapsulating darkness. She was stepping into the mouth of the open-world blindly, and it greedily swallowed her whole.

_You are just going to lose everything this way_.

"Charon!" she whispered loudly, hoping the ghoul was somewhere nearby and that she wasn't indirectly attracting something predatory. "Ch-"

"What is it?" His voice precisely answered her from behind, and she nearly jumped a foot in the air. "What is wrong? I saw you running."

There was concern in his garbled tone, and it almost made her cry. Without explaining her situation, she turned to face him and threw her arms around his torso in a desperate embrace.

His hands went to remove her from himself, but she wouldn't budge. "Evelyn, what is the matter?" His tenor was laced with panic now, and he could see she was in grief. "Are you alright?"

"I don't know," she whimpered at him. "I don't want you to _hate_ me."

Charon processed her words, then sighed aggravatedly. "I do not hate you," he informed her in his monosyllabic tone. "What is this about? You are acting like a child."

_Evelyn, stop acting like a child. You're smarter than that; don't let anything get the better of you. What did Socrates say? 'To find yourself, think for yourself.'…yes, that's right._

"Then why did you leave like that?" she muffled into his armor, her fingers digging into his leather straps. "Why are you ignoring me, like this? Why do you _abhor_ me being with Cross so much?"

"Please let go of me," that raspy voice demanded. " _Evelyn_."

She shook her head, deeply inhaling the scent of gunpowder laced inside his clothes. "Not until you tell me."

_Ugh_. Charon relented, his hands resting gingerly on her shoulders. A few seconds passed as he mulled over his thoughts. "He does not deserve you," he finally admitted, feeling her head turn to look up at him. She was blind in the dark, but he could make out her furrowed brows and parted lips.

"Was that a joke?"

"No," he grunted, forcibly trying to will away the growing anguish in the pit of his stomach. The only outlet he found for it was in his attitude. "Now will you release me?"

"Why?" she breathed. "I…like him."

Charon was becoming increasingly pissed, now. He didn't dare make a move against her, though, and it's not like he very much wanted to. There were other faces that came to mind.

"He's a ghoul," Charon ironically stated. "He's also a contracted killer, and a womanizer."

Evelyn chortled, her body vibrating against him pleasantly as she laughed into the night. " _Seriously_? _You're_ a ghoul, _**and**_ a contracted killer." She tightened her hold on him. "I guess I just have a type."

The words twisted into him in a bizarre fashion, and he did not like the way it made him feel. "Evelyn, it is cold. You should go back inside." He could feel her shivering from the night air, and his arms instinctively wrapped around her. "I will guide you back."

When he had finally freed himself from her clutches, he brought her back to the steps of the cabin, a gentle push nudging her to the door. "Do not come back out by yourself; it is not safe." And then he left her alone to rejoin the abyss of the world that he knew best.

* * *

_Evelyn, you have such talent for so many things, and yet you have been wasting your finite time sleeping the day away. What is_ _**wrong** _ _with you?_

"What's wrong with _you_?" Cross was seated at a table, a half-burned cigarette in his hand. "You ran out on me like I was the devil himself." He leaned back in his chair and rapped his knuckles along the surface. "Although, I think the devil is just outside our door."

_You have to realize the world is made of blood. It is a river, drowning all of those who do not have the toll to pay. Do you wish to spend 100 years of it on the shoreline, like everyone else?_

"Are you okay?" the merc grated, concerned. "Hey."

She snapped her attention to him, and she realized she was in the foyer still, clutching at the doorknob. Her fist relaxed, and a _clank_ on the floor made them both look down at her feet. She had subconsciously crushed the knob off its handle.

"Are you afraid of me?" she unexpectedly asked, her voice carrying across the room to him. The words were sharp and full of doubt; he had to catch them quickly to comprehend what she had said.

He was eyeing her judiciously, his face half lost in that shimmering haze. It was difficult to read his thoughts. "No," Was all he said, and he took a drag.

_They cannot understand you. You are not like_ _**them**_ _._

**No, Mother. I cannot understand them.**

Her fingers worked deftly at her braid, and she let loose the tumble of curls to softly tickle the skin of her neck.

**Because they are like** _**me**_ **.**

With each step she took forward, she discarded an article of clothing and simply let it melt to the floor until she was standing before him completely naked, her wavy hair like a shimmering halo in the candlelight.

" _And bending down beside the glowing bars,"_ She planted her palms into his chest, her voice just above a light whisper. _"Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled,"_ The ghoul was completely enthralled at her spontaneous affections, his breath hitching in his chest as she gracefully climbed atop him. _"And paced upon the mountains overhead,"_ She grabbed at his hands, and gently kissed his knuckles. _"And hid his face amid a crowd of stars."_

Her eyes were seemingly endless, and he found himself falling so far into them he feared he would not know how to climb out. He had lied; he was now _terrified_.

When her lips met his so sensually, he felt his mind succumb to nothingness, and he could taste the cold air of night upon her tongue.

* * *

_Holy shit_. Was the only coherent thought he could manage.

The tables were so violently turned from the previous occasion; she was much more confident in her dealings with him. He was bare-chested, the upper half of his clothes tossed to the side, but she halted him when he went to go and undo his pant buckles.

" _Not yet,_ " she whispered lustfully in his mouth, breathing hot air down his throat. Her hands were exploring his body like a burnt, ruined roadmap; she traced the dark exposed veins and ashen-colored muscles that he was now comprised of. He practically had no skin left whatsoever, and he suddenly felt extremely self-conscious at her focused nature. "Look at me."

Those fingers were now tracing his jawline, and he forced his hazy eyes to meet with hers. Her lips graced across his face, softly planting them over his scar; trailing from his forehead down to his lower cheek, a virgin pilgrimage down the river of Jordan. When she crossed over to his mouth, she bit where his lower lip would have been, and then proceeded to kiss him slowly. Her hands were down at his groin, and she was painstakingly undressing him without breaking away. When he finally felt himself become free, she came apart and rose up and away from him, leaning against the table.

"I think you owe me for the other day," she said huskily.

The yellow and orange flames that enlightened her outline made her appear ethereal, and he felt his hands shake slightly as he worked at unlacing his boots. He removed them roughly, going to stand and letting his pants drop to the floor. After he had stepped out of them, he came to stand before her fully exposed like herself, and he was breathing heavily.

He was almost afraid to touch her, as though she would ignite in a spark of flames and disappear in a swirl of smoke. "Turn around."

She obeyed, those witchy eyes finally freeing his person. The spell had been broken, and he pulled at the hot fires roiling in his belly as he grabbed her. She gave a hushed yelp as he gripped her right kneecap and lifted it to rest on the table, a testament to her flexibility as she kept the position without complaint. The exposed area between her thighs was dripping, and he bent himself at the knees slightly to enter inside of her. She gave a breathy noise of pleasure, and he quickly resolved himself to not get carried away. He brought his hands around; one cupped her breast and the other reached down to her clitoris. He circled his thumb over the wet swollen lump while playing with her nipple and pumping into her tactically.

_Fuck_. He may not last again, after all, and it had only been a few minutes. The moaning and shivering she was producing were enough to make his head explode. She was arching her back into him, and her free breast was slapping loudly against her chest. _**Goddamn.**_ She gave a high-pitched gasp, and she suddenly felt extremely hot and the grip around his cock was mind-numbing. _Thank God_. He increased the pressure of his thumb down below just slightly, and her entire body began to quiver as she cried out.

He wasn't going to let her down for a second time, if he could help it, but he was damn glad she came as fast as she did. With a groan, he railed away into her and felt himself beginning to peak. She whimpered loudly as her orgasm was soon supplicated with his own, the feeling of his thick girth pulsating inside of her an ecstasy of itself. When they had both finished, she felt his fingers dig into her ass as he pulled himself out, and he shuddered violently.

Her raised foot came back to the bare floorboards, and she turned around to face him. Her fingers encircled around his face, and her half-lucid eyes were staring into the fog of his own. She bent his face down and kissed his forehead as he brought his hands up to embrace her forearms. Her lips gently brushed over his scar. _"Thus with a kiss, I die."_


	10. High Tide

_Jesus_ _ **fuckin'**_ _Christ._ The ghoul dragged both hands down the sides of his face, rolling over to his sleeping partner. They were both still naked from the night's wonderful endeavors, and she was burrowed into his side to escape the chill that hung in the air. Her hair was like a sheet of silk that flowed around them; he propped himself up on one elbow to marvel at her...he was fucked.

_Absolutely, fucked._

In all of his life as a ghoul, he had never been just a one-woman man. He was a drifting soul; a wanderer. The road was his home and a warm bed was a familiar friend. But, _damn_. If this was the warm bed he could come home to every night, he would _never_ leave.

_Until she finds out you're not_ _**really** _ _takin' her to Braxton._

**Ugh.** Ah, yes. His small dilemma. Or, it was a small dilemma, back when he lied to her. Well, it wasn't exactly a _lie_ , per se, but she would be **extremely** disappointed, and probably mad when she found out his ulterior motive. And _now_ …he laid back down and stared at the ceiling, his intrusive thoughts ruining his good mood.

It was so unexpected, all of this. The two of them were like a struck match, becoming searingly hot in just a few seconds, only to perhaps burn out in the same amount of time. He secretly hoped that wouldn't be the case; it would be entirely too painful knowing she was somewhere out in this world, walking the same earth but not breathing the same air. He had a drop of the ocean cupped in his palms, and he had to be careful to not let it slip through the cracks of his fingers and soak into the desert below.

_What the hell does Darcy mean to her? What does she_ _ **want**_ _?_ As much as he wanted to voice his curiosities, he also wished to remain in her good faith. That dead woman meant something to her, so much that she was risking everything for…well, he didn't _know_ what for. _No._ He had to know, and he would. He closed his eyes and revisited the previous hours of the night, exhaling loudly at the thought of it potentially being the last time so soon. His mouth craved a cigarette, and as he worked on gently removing her from his person, she grabbed at his hand, intertwining their fingers together.

"What time is it?" Her voice was heavy with sleep. "Don't go." That small thumb rubbed circles into his leathery palm.

"It's dawn; sun will be kickin' in here soon." He continued to sit upright, and he felt her give away. "Need to piss and have a quick smoke."

She muttered something sleepily, rolling away from him and drifting back to her dreams.

He groped for his reinforced pants, shoving them on and then reaching for his socks and boots. With his jacket in one hand, he strode to the door and came to a halt as he went to reach for the handle. Slowly bending down, his fingers grasped at the smashed doorknob and he rotated it in his hand, inspecting the damage. It was comparable to a shriveled prune. _Jesus_. A pair of hazel eyes darted back to her sleeping form; so peaceful and seemingly innocent under the tangle of blankets. _Damn monster_.

His eyes flew up to the ceiling in decision, and he relented with a shrug and lifted his boot. The door flew open dramatically, crashing against the side with a loud _bang_. Evelyn flew upright, her hair wild and eyes darting around for signs of immediate danger. He tossed the doorknob by her feet. "Tried fixin' it; didn't work," he said dryly.

An enormous presence entered the doorway, and Cross instinctively took a step back.

"What is it?" Charon rasped, his eyes darting from the ghoul to his employer.

Evelyn gave a squeak; the blanket came over her naked chest immediately and she looked away, completely flustered. She did not meet his eyes.

Charon paused, utterly silent.

Cross's hands twitched; his fingers itching to grasp the cool casing of his gun. Both men stared at each other with a downright passive look, neither speaking a word nor making a move.

A _clunk_ drew their attention to the floor between them. The crushed doorknob rolled around a bit; the sound of metal gliding along the wooden boards.

"Can you _both_ fucking leave?" Evelyn snapped, her face bright red. "I'm trying to sleep."

The larger ghoul instantly gave a hard pivot; he was gone as soon as he had appeared. Cross grumbled something irately under his breath, thrusting his jacket over his broad shoulders and leaving his chest exposed.

The glow from a lit cigarette gave his position in the faint radiance of the morning dusk. The world was a strange hue of purple and orange; somewhere off in the distance, a crow gave its battle cry.

The ferryman was nowhere to be seen; a wendigo stalking from beyond the blackened tree line. Cross felt himself already tire, and he debated whether or not he should just tuck himself back in bed.

* * *

The three left their nightly accommodation behind as they trailblazed across the map. Evelyn constantly unbraided and re-braided her damp hair, muttering to herself about the lake she bathed in and the strange smell it left on her person. She avoided eye contact with both ghouls and didn't offer much in conversation, there was an awkward tinge in the air that no one wished to address.

Despite nearly clearing the edge of the forest, a sizable yao guai finally made an appearance with a terrifying charge, and almost all three welcomed the distraction with audible relief. A round of shells and some well-placed bullet holes failed to incapacitate the creature, until a fallen tree log unexpectedly collided with the side of it. Both tree and mutated bear were sent flying, crashing through the forest with an explosion of noise.

The ghouls spun their heads around to their smaller comrade; she simply wiped the dirt from her hands and continued along without them. For the second time that day, they both exchanged a completely emotionless stare, their telepathic thought relaying to the other.

_I won't make her upset if you won't._

* * *

When they had finally arrived at the next town that evening, Evelyn paused at the outskirts, reading a crudely painted sign aloud.

"Crawshad?" She tilted her head, the puckering of her lips indicating her displeasure. "Craw… _shad_." She brought a finger up to her lips as the name formed on her tongue, rolling the words around as though tasting it.

"Not to your likin'?" Cross mused at her.

"It's a disgusting name." She decided, giving a dismissal with a wave of her hand. "I hate it."

Her tone was so matter-of-factly the ghoul couldn't help but laugh. It was stupid, hating a particular word. "Yeah, well, get used to it. We're goin' to be here for the next two days."

She whirled on him. "Two days?!"

He nodded and pointed to the far horizon. "See those mountains?"

She squinted. "No."

"Exactly." He began to walk past her and into town. "Those sandstorms cover ground fast, and if you're caught in that, well, you won't live to die in Braxton."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Fine. Two days." They continued on together.

* * *

"Three rooms, please." The clerk gave a bored glance at the three of them, finally relenting with a shrug and turning around to fetch the appropriate keys.

"What's the third one for?" the merc asked stupidly, watching the exchange.

A small, bronze key was held out to him; the patina giving authentication to its age. "For you."

The bounty hunter's eyes turned to slits. "I can't tell if that's a joke."

The key was wiggled before him. "Then you can sleep in the streets, if you like."

It gradually came to rest in between two gray fingers, and then disappear inside his palm as his hand curled into a fist. "I _know_ where I'll be sleepin'," he growled.

The clerk gave an awkward cough, and all three of them turned their attention. "Uh-" the clerk began, clearing his throat, "your rooms are just down that way." A small, pale finger pointed to a door on their right. His ginger head tracked the trio as they disappeared into the hallway beyond.

Evelyn came to her door, unlocking it to reveal a pitch-black entrance. Swiping a hand along the wall, her fingers met with the electrical switch and it flicked with a _click_. The room was as expected; the bonus was the private bathroom.

"I wonder if there's hot water," she mused, stepping inside and tossing her bag at the foot of her bed. "A bath would be a **Godsend**."

She heard the bounty hunter's large footsteps lumber down the hallway some more, finally coming to a halt. The click of a door opening indicated he had found his room.

"Shall I wait in the hallway tonight?" Charon asked her, almost uncertainly. His room key was enclosed in his fist.

Evelyn paused, her hands rummaging through her bag. A frown settled on her lips. "You can do whatever you want tonight, big guy. I think I'm just gonna shower and sleep. I'm pretty tired. Throw a party; I don't care." She waved a hand at him. "You should try and relax."

He gave a curt nod, wavering before he left her to her own devices. A thought came to his tongue, but he bit on it and turned away. Her back was to him and her attention was distracted; she did not even notice his absence until a grunt snapped her from her daze. She was in the process of lightly unpacking as Cross's massive frame came to fill her open doorway.

"Was that a dog and pony show?" he inquired, inviting himself inside and closing the entry behind himself. The ferryman had retired a few doors down. "Or did I piss you off somehow?"

Evelyn laughed at his serious tone; a simple gray tank top being tossed onto her bed. "Are you seriously so upset you have to sleep alone?"

"No," he answered honestly, moving to lean against her dresser with his arms crossed. His expression was smoldering. "But I would rather sleep with you."

She gave an amused snort. "Well, _sleep_ is exactly what I want tonight. I'm fucking exhausted." She had a cynical glint to her eyes. "I'm sure you can find _other_ company tonight somewhere in this town."

_Jesus_. The merc sighed aggravatedly; his boat had suddenly sailed into treacherous waters, and any wrong word could capsize him. "I don't _want_ to be with another woman," he rasped at her truthfully. "I want you."

"Well you can't have me tonight; I'm very busy." She removed her jacket and angrily slapped it against a chair in the corner, going to unstrap her boots. "Goodnight."

Cross worked his jaw in frustration; Evelyn was the **worst** sort of woman he could have attached himself to. The kind that liked to argue just for the sake of arguing. She would push his buttons because she was beginning to figure them out- all for the sake of some deranged, mental satisfaction. He knew this because he was the same; their relationship already spelled disaster.

His boat was beginning to sink; the water pouring in faster than he could dump over.

Stupidly, he stalked up to her rather than turn for the door. He grabbed at her wrist, freezing her in place. "Look, what do you want from me right now?" He glowered down at her. "If you want me to leave, I will. You want me to go fuck someone else? You can swing by and pick me up in the mornin'."

His instincts screamed danger as her eyes grew cold and she glared at him icily. "Let. Go," she whispered vehemently. "I don't care _what_ you do."

He held on, his other hand going to reach around her waist. His fingers trembled slightly as her whole body tensed under him. _**Terrified**_.

"I think you do," he spoke carefully, inspecting a breach in the hull of his ship. A quick prayer was recited in hope that it was manageable. "You're mad, cause it feels good. And you're mad at _me_ , cause you know I can take it."

A brief flash of emotion in her face… _shame?_

The boat survived a high swell; the frigid, salty water drenching him. "I want to stay the night with you. We don't have to have sex; it won't _kill me_." Internally, it would. "You're the woman I want…and if you want me gone, I'll go."

Her icy demeanor was beginning to break, and that trademark lip bite finally broke through. He sighed in relief. The sea appeared smooth again, and the mast was ready to unfurl.

"I don't _know_ what I want," she whispered it so forlornly he was at a loss of words for a moment.

He released her wrist and gently held her face, pulling her eyes up to his. " _I do_." And with that, he embraced her in a kiss, easily sweeping her off her feet and relocating them to the bed.

They were now adrift again, sailing the seven seas.


	11. The Bachelor: Wasteland Edition PT1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for such a long chapter.

_Tap_

_**I-I just need a moment to speak with my Dad…I'll come get you when we're done.** _

_Tap_

_**So, he has this crazy idea, and I don't think you're gonna like it-** _

_Tap_

_**You have the choice to either stick it through to the end with me, or I can send you wherever you wanna go. I'm not forcing you to do this for me, Charon. It's gonna be dangerous, and I don't know how it's gonna end.** _

A lengthy, well-practiced sigh was exhaled through what remained of the ferryman's nostrils. His head was leaned back, flush against the peeling green wallpaper of the hotel room. A singular, deteriorated finger was acting as a stand-in metronome against the table he was seated at; the dents and jagged grooves along the wooden surface paid homage from those who had come before him.

He was more than well aware that the mercenary had weaseled his way inside her room; he had listened to his large footsteps coming to a halt before her door, their voices drifting down the hallway before her world was closed off from him. The footsteps had never returned.

That was an hour ago.

_Tap_

The image of her naked skin burned across his retinas; a surprised snort banished the memory from his mind. He had witnessed her bare flesh before; there was nothing perverse about his reaction to it. It had been poorly timed moments; a scream from a cold shower that he intruded upon, his weapon hounding for an imaginary target. An instance she had awoken from a dead sleep, complaining of the heat from inside her sleeping roll and she had simply stripped herself nude. _That_ had been an awkward morning.

But he did not lust after her as the bounty hunter had. The only thing that he cared for when it came to her body were her scars; the fewer she had, the better he was at his job. Nonetheless, the obvious implications between herself and the merc burrowed a parasitical itch under his skin, and he did not know how to scratch at it.

* * *

It was almost two in the afternoon.

 _She wasn't kidding_ , _she_ _ **was**_ _tired,_ the bounty hunter thought, exhaling smoke from his nostrils, _no_ _t like I did her any favors_ …

They had kept each other up for most of the night, their erotic needs keeping sleep at bay. She had woken him up twice, both in manners that had surprised him; she did wonders with her mouth. She was a little more experienced sexually than he realized...not like he was going to complain about it.

The bounty hunter jammed away his carnal thoughts of her as he felt himself growing hard. He was in public, peering down at the masses below from his perch high in the rafters of the old high school stadium. The marketplace was teeming with the usual wares, and it was where he suspected Evelyn to come when she had woken up.

"I heard you were in town, Cross." A familiar man began to climb the steps, his hands shoved inside his pockets and his automatic rifle slung around his shoulder. "Can't miss your ugly fucking face anywhere."

"Campbell." Cross reached out a hand, and he gave a firm shake. "I would say the same, except I don't miss yours."

The other mercenary chuckled, taking a seat beside him. "Here for the Andrew Field's case?"

Cross shook his head, removing the cigarette from his mouth and blowing a long stream into the air. It was already hazy. "Nope. Got a steady gig right now; escort." He reached inside his jacket, pulling out his carton and offering him one. "You workin' it?"

Campbell gave a shrug of his shoulders, licking the end of the cigarette before committing it to his lips. A small flame lit the end, and he waved a hand in thanks. "Trying, I should say. Bastard has led me from Michigan damn near all the way to Virginia. He's a ghost, man. I sent a courier back to Wells and told them to hire you."

The merc grunted humorously. "Almost did. Probably would have, if not for this job."

"So, escort huh. Caravan?"

Cross shook his head. Before he could elaborate, the devil themselves strode into view; the unmistakable figure of Charon stood out from the crowd. The bounty hunter denoted with his bony fingertip. "Those two. The ghoul and the woman."

"Holy shit, and I thought _you_ were a big guy," Campbell remarked at the sight of the ferryman. He then squinted his eyes and gave an appreciative whistle. "She's something I wouldn't mind staring at all day. How do you _always_ seem to get these kinda jobs?"

"Because I'm good at what I do, and everyone knows it," Cross replied evenly. The comment on Evelyn irked him. He cleared his throat, and spit to the side. "Case bring you here, or you call it quits?"

Campbell shifted in his seat, rubbing at his eyes as he exhaled his cigarette. "Trail went cold weeks ago. I'm just drifting through, doing some shit work for shit pay." He took a long drag, his voice muffled by the hit. "Heard there was some problem with super mutants up in Serrato, might head that way once the sandstorm clears."

"Serrato?" Cross questioned. "We're clearin' to Lake Capers, might see you on the way through."

Campbell gave a grin. "Bring your friend and you just might."

Before the ghoul could respond in an appropriate manner, he heard a whistle down below.

* * *

"God, you'd think he's fucking deaf or something," Evelyn grumbled, hands on her hips and her expression peeved. She waved at the ghoul as he made his way down the bleachers. "You going feral, old man?" she huffed.

The mercenary glowered at her, visibly offended at her snide jab. "If I do, I'm comin' for _you_ first."

Evelyn rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Not much difference from now, then."

Charon blinked down at the wiry man that had joined their small circle; a quick threat assessment being mentally checked off. Campbell's eyes gave the ferryman a once over in return.

"Campbell." Was all he said, extending a hand.

Evelyn seized it with her own. "Evelyn."

"Beautiful name for a beautiful fa-." He then gasped in pain as the sound of bones popped. " _Jesus-_ " He instantly withdrew his hand to his chest, gingerly holding it against himself.

Evelyn spun angrily at her nightly lover. "Are _all_ of you mercenaries the _same_?"

Cross was rubbing his face with one hand, trying to stifle the laughter he felt vibrating in his chest.

Evelyn blinked, suddenly looking upset. She gave the new mercenary a rueful glance. "I apologize. Is your hand okay?"

Campbell gaped at her dumbfoundedly, working his fingers delicately. "Um, I mean-uh…sure? I don't think anything is broken." He winced as he attempted to make a fist. "Strong grip you got there."

A dark chuckle escaped the ghoul bounty hunter's lips. "You're lucky; she nearly _killed_ me."

Evelyn shot him a pointed glare. " _Some_ people are just as stupid as they look."

Despite the incursion, Campbell chortled. His hand began to throb uncomfortably. "That sounds like a story I _have_ to hear." He cracked a grin and gave her a wink. "And beg your pardon, but we merc's are not all alike." He indicated with his chin to the ghoul. "Heaven forbid if someone tries and relate me with _him._ "

"Well the way I see it, you're already two rungs up that ladder," she retorted. She pointed to the canvas bag her companion was carrying, her attention back to Cross. "We're stocked up; I'm heading to the repair shop to see if they can fix my Pip-Boy, what the hell have _you_ been doing? Gallivanting with the wasteland's finest?" Her eyes landed on Campbell. "If Cross is supposed to be the best, then I can't begin to imagine what _your_ standards must be like."

Campbell gave a slight startle at her hostility before his eyes upturned in an amused smile. "Has anyone ever told you you're like a cross between a deathclaw and a cazador? Because both should be avoided."

"Has anyone ever told you it's rude to waste someone's time with pitiful analogies? No? Well then, here's your first. It's on the house." And with that, she glared at them and spun on her heel. "Charon and I have some _actual_ business to attend to."

The two mercenaries watched them stroll through the crowd, the height of Charon's head giving them tabs on their location.

Campbell gave a breathy sigh. "How the hell do you put up with _that_? She's a piece of work."

Cross had his hands shoved inside the leathers of his jacket and gave a shrug. "Yeah, it's been some work alright." He arched his back, feeling the spinal column crack. "I'm goin' to get a drink."

His acquaintance was still staring after their trail. "You mind if I join? It's been a long day already."

* * *

_Slap!_ The crisp sound echoed in the empty hallway, the ghoul turning his head and working his jaw. _Hell, forgot she was mad at me_.

"How dare you show your _rotting_ face around here!" the ghoul woman snapped at him, reaching her hand around for a second strike.

Cross intercepted her wrist and gripped it firmly. "That _hurt_ , Susie," he grumbled. "Long time, no see to you too."

"I never want to see you again!" she hissed, her grating voice shrieking in his eardrums. _"You- you bastard!"_

He didn't even remember what he had done to make the only bar owning ghoul in town so peeved at him. She usually welcomed him with open arms, a hot meal, and a decent fuck every time he made his way through. The last time he made the rounds through here was… _oh._

"You're _still_ mad over that?" he growled lowly.

"You didn't even _apologize!_ " She was crying now, sobbing into his chest. Her wrist fell limp into his hand.

"Why would I apologize for doin' my _job?_ " And just like that, he had stepped back onto the carousel of insanity, and they were having this conversation _all_ over again. " _She paid for protection!_ "

"Oh, yeah, like you didn't _fuck_ her while doing it! I could see the look in her eyes, don't you lie to me!" Susie spat at his feet, removing her flesh from his.

Well, he couldn't argue about that. They _did_ have sex when it was all said and done, and some before then, too. She was a nice lady, and she had paid well.

"I'm not goin' to have this argument again." The ghoul shook his head, ignoring the curses and jabs wailing in his face. He lifted up his hands in submission. "Look, I'm just here for a couple days, lookin' to spend some caps for a beer and some food. You really goin' to bar me from the joint for a job I took _two years ago_?! C'mon Susie."

The female ghoul miffed to the side; her face downcast in somber thought as she furiously wiped away at her tears. "And-you're here…for nothing else?" she asked expectantly, her muddy eyes giving him a doe look. "It's Tuesday, so it'll be slow. George can handle the shift…"

 _Christ_. He was suddenly surrounded by landmines on all sides. Just a week ago, he would've taken her up on the offer and been contentedly tucked away for a better part of the day.

 **Now** …

He grumbly sighed. "Can't. I'm… _with_ someone, right now." He waited for the pin to drop, but it never did.

There was a suspicious look in her eyes. " _With_ someone, what do you mean you're _with_ someone? As in, another job?"

"Do I have to spell it out for ya?" he snarled. "I have a woman, and we're together."

Susie's hand reached back for another swing.

* * *

"Can you fix it?" Evelyn demanded, shaking the Pip-Boy erratically at the elderly trader.

Old Man Kip scratched his bald scalp with the nub of a missing thumb. "Hmm, I suppose so. Haven't had somethin' I couldn't fix yet- unless you don't stop shakin' it like that."

Her hand immediately quelled, and she tossed it onto the table at him, along with a bag of caps. "I appreciate it. How soon?"

"Oh, hrm-" He studied the piece thoughtfully in his hands. "Give me a few hours, and I'll see where that puts me."

Evelyn strode out the door and into the late afternoon sunshine, lifting her face to the blue sky for a moment and breathing deeply. Charon kicked himself off the side of the building, his silent disposition awaiting her orders.

"So big guy, what do you wanna do? We're pretty much done with everything…wanna grab some food?" She was twirling in her spot; a constant merry-go-round with a childish smile. He was glad she was back to normal with him, again. She faltered, and he grabbed her elbow to prevent her from falling.

"If that is what you wish," he replied passively, releasing her as soon as she was steady.

" _If that is what you wish,"_ she mocked, her throat making an inhumane garbled noise.

"I do _not_ sound like that." His arms went to their usual stance; crossed.

A white grin flashed. "C'mon, let's go see what our incompetent friend is up to."

The ghoul shadowed in step behind her, an indiscernible grumble venting the entire way. She had poked her head inside two taverns; there was no wind of their bounty hunter companion. At last her hand grasped at a worn doorhandle- the search taking them to the final saloon in town. "I swear, if he isn't-"

A few eyes turned to stare at them coming through the entryway; a couple lingering longer than was preferable for the bodyguard. Their newly acquainted mercenary was seated at the far end of the bar counter, and he gave a small wave with his good hand as they strode over.

"Cross here?" She asked.

"Yeah, he's in the back."

Evelyn plopped down in the seat next to him; Charon opted to stand with his hands crossed behind him.

"Does he always do that?" Campbell asked warily, his apparent discomfort with the towering ghoul obvious. "Feel like I'm about to get knifed in the back."

" _Jesus_ Charon, take a seat." Evelyn spun around, patting the available barstool beside her. "You're making _me_ nervous."

The large ghoul instantly convened; the furnishing gave a cautionary _creak_ as his weight settled. The bartender took their orders, his towel slapping loudly over one shoulder as he turned to fetch their requested menu items. Evelyn was twirling the end of her braid around one finger; a river of dark port being poured into a glass.

"How's the hand?"

"Seen better days," he muttered.

"I mean, that's _most_ quintessential."

Campbell raised his beer bottle to his lips, enjoying the smooth hops washing over his tongue. "Quin- _what_?"

Evelyn huffed irritably. " _Quintessential_. Like, most exemplary." When he gave her a blank look, she rolled her eyes. " _Ideal_."

Campbell chuckled as she seemingly took offense to his ignorance. "Sorry some of us ain't as well-read as some others."

Evelyn took a drink from her choice of poison. It was a dry selection, and she didn't like it as much as she had hoped for. Nonetheless, she nursed it to her chest. "You mercs really _are_ all the same," she muttered gloweringly.

Campbell watched her take another small sip from her beverage, and he waved over to the barkeep, holding up his beer to insinuate another. He turned his head back around and graced Evelyn with a wry smile. Evelyn watched the cold beer bottle set down between them, a pair of caps tossed in exchange. An eyebrow was raised as the bottle was slid towards her person.

The tanned mercenary shrugged nonchalantly. "Notice you didn't like your drink."

She slightly narrowed her eyes at his friendly behavior, but he just laughed and tipped his beer at her in cheers. She popped the cap off with her bare hand in a silent threat. Regardless, she took a swig, her palate finally appetized. Evelyn then bit her bottom lip in thought, the strand continuously twirling. The mercenary's eyes followed, but she took no notice. "So, do all of you hired thugs know each other or something? World that small?"

Campbell chuckled. A cold drop of precipitation rolled languidly down the side of his amber bottle, helping form the water stain that was ready to join the thousands of others on the bar countertop. With a light grip at the base, he brought the tip of it to his mouth and took a drink. "I just know the _good_ ones."

"He's not _that_ good," Evelyn whispered sardonically, a cheeky smile forming on her lips. "Just ask him about the broken ribs I gave him."

Campbell's body language was beginning to open into her now; he had subconsciously turned in his seat to face her fully. "Like I said, I wouldn't mind hearing it."

She kept her closed posture and shrugged. "I'm sure he could tell it better; I'll fill in the later parts he was too cold to remember."

He had begun to lean forward. "I'm sure you cou-"

Evelyn's bottle then exploded all over the counter, sending bits of glass and foam everywhere. "Sorry, sorry." Evelyn looked up with pleading eyes towards the bartender, who just stared at her with a shocked look on his face. "I'll clean it up!" She reached over and grabbed a rag from behind the counter, busy mopping up her mess.

Charon sighed irately. That was the fifth time she had done that this month, and he was tempted at this point to supply her beverages in a plastic bottle. The stupefied bar patrons were watching her until someone coughed loudly and the trance was then broken, the normal din of the bar house resuming.

Her red face gave an indication of her chagrin and she flopped the soaked dishrag down, carefully scooping up the bits of glass together in a neat pile. "Thanks for the beer," she mumbled at Campbell, avoiding his staggered stare. A long shard of glass had finagled its way into her palm, and she carefully slid it out.

"What the fuck happened here?" A rasp sounded behind her, milky eyes narrowing down at her hand. "Are you okay?"

" _Yes,"_ she bit at him, precariously sliding out another piece of bloody glass. "It was just… _nothing_."

Cross gave an evil glare at the mercenary seated next to her, but he just raised his hands with a look that said _don't look at me, I didn't do anything._

"Goddamn. Can't take you anywhere," he muttered, observing Charon gently taking ahold of her wrist. The ferryman rotated it around, observing the rivulets of blood that snaked down her forearm. "Did you puncture anythin'? Should get you a stimpak."

"No. It's fine." She flexed her fingers into a loose fist, and then relaxed them. "I'll just wrap it." She then watched as Charon methodically went about picking out the remaining shards. She stole a glance at Campbell. "I need another beer, I guess."

The blonde merc immediately spun in his seat.

The bartender walked over and scooped her little glass pile into a metal bucket. She pulled out some caps with her good hand and set them down, splaying them out with her fingers for easy counting. "I swear it won't happen again."

The barkeep just raised his eyebrows down at her, popping the cap off a new bottle and setting it down. The cap was pocketed into his apron and he meandered away.

Charon had set to work in wrapping her hand proficiently with a fresh bandage roll he kept on his person. She leaned back in her seat, watching the ferryman nurse her extremity. A strangled commotion was then heard down the hallway leading to the back of the establishment, and nearly everyone turned to see what the fuss was about. A ghoul woman stomped angrily into the room, only to give Cross a scathing look and then disappear behind a door.

"You didn't get us kicked out, did you?" Campbell spoke slowly to the bounty hunter. "Only decent food in town."

Cross shook his head. "No. It's fine." _Got a damn headache for it, though._

"I guess I'll take your word for it." The merc raised his bottle.

Cross shoved his hands into his leather jacket. "Did you get that damn thing fixed?" he asked Evelyn, readdressing her attention from the empty space where Susie had been.

"Do you see a Pip-Boy on my fucking arm? Going deaf _and_ blind?" She held her good arm out to him; he grated his teeth in annoyance at her childish behavior. "Yeah, keep looking at me like that and you _will_ sleep in the fucking streets tonight." She huffed, wiggling in her chair. "You can savor last night to keep you warm."

Campbell spit his beer all over the counter, hacking his lungs up to dispel the inhaled liquid. Cross turned his back to the man, ignoring the obvious elephant that had now entered the room.

"Just _what_ are you pissed off for?" he growled lowly at her. There was already one woman furious with him; he didn't really care to add a second…especially from the one he wanted to share a bed with. "You don't _have_ to go everywhere swingin'."

Their eyes met for a few seconds until she broke off to the side and waved her newly mummified appendage at him. "I think our friend is dying," she redirected dully.

Cross sighed, the sound like metal being scraped. His large hand thumped sturdily over his past acquaintance, nearly knocking the man off his bar stool.

" _O_ -kay, I-m goo-d, good," Campbell sputtered, wiping away the spittle on the edge of his chin. "T-thanks." A towel was tossed at him; the barkeep was shaking his head.

Suddenly, the sound of a door slammed, and a woman materialized with a rush of air.

"So, where is she? Didn't bring her, or do you just not want me anymore?" the tavern owner rudely sniped. "You can at least be honest to the woman that you've been screwing for the past six years."

" _Christ Susie!_ Are you-"

"What!? You've lied to me before, why should I expect any _different_ this time? You sleazy, zombi-"

Cross grabbed at the woman's arm, making their way outside. When they had stepped around the corner, he thrust her against the side of the building and pointed a finger threateningly in her face. "That's crossin' a line; _what in the goddamn is the matter with you?!_ "

"I haven't seen you in _months_! When you finally do happen to show your worthless ass, you treat me indifferently! Like I'm nothing!" There were tears leaking from the sides of her eyes, and she dabbed at them with the heel of her dark olive palm. "I-I know we aren't exclusive, but-you know-I've always missed you. You're the one thing I can look forward to in this rotten hellhole." She sniffed loudly. "I'm s-sorry I was mad earlier…I just want you to _want_ me, like you do."

Those green ruined hands came out and gently caressed at his jacket, her fingers curling into the leather straps shyly. "I've been so lonely, Cross." She tilted her head back to him, her patches of silky blonde hair falling to the wayside; her eyes glinted from the fresh tears. Tightening her hold on him, she sidled up close until their bodies were flush. "Make me an honest woman, just for tonight."

The bounty hunter's hands came to rest on her shoulders; a familiar shelf he had previously sought purchase for over many a year. "Susie, I-"

A shuffling to their side drew both their heads around. Evelyn's face was crimson as her eyes darted between the two ghouls, and then something of a loathing accusation was snapped back to Cross's face. She turned on her heel to depart around the corner.

 _FUCK_.

"Who's the smoothskin?" Susie ignorantly rasped. "Wh-"

"I have to go." He suddenly announced, reaching down and unwrapping her suggestive fingers from his waist.

"But-"

The merc didn't look back, hurryingly giving chase down the strip. The gold and orange rays of early dusk gave the nearly empty avenue an abandoned vibe. He spotted her small figure marching steadfastly without so much as a glance back.

"Goddamnit, woman, just let me talk," Cross growled, easily coming beside her with his long stride.

"I don't care for what you have to say," she spat, not bothering to look at him. " _Go away_."

"That's not fair," he grumbled at her. "C'mon, would you just _stop_ for a minute?" He took a dangerous bet and grabbed her shoulder, forcibly spinning her around to face him. "It's _not_ what you think."

"My name isn't _woman,_ " she said hotly, planting her hands onto her hips. "And you are no one and nothing to me; you don't have to care what I _think_."

"Ouch." A wave of hurt spanned his face for a moment. _She's just pissed off, let her cool down._ But, no. Cross was stupid, and so he took a big stick and poked the bear.

"Okay, _Evelyn_ ," he drawled. "You really think I'm that fuckin' stupid? You heard her in the bar; she was just upset. You goin' to hold past flames over me? Cause I'm goin' to be honest, there's _a lot_."

Her eyebrows came together in thought, and she bit her bottom lip. The look was dangerously cute. _Ugh_.

When there was no rebuttal, he felt brazened to continue. "Look, you're mad at me, okay? I understand that. It's my specialty with women."

The pensive mood she had for a moment completely washed away, and she was glaring at him again with a look that fired _you say the stupidest fucking things_.

He backpedaled. "Alright alright- what I mean to say is…" _This is_ _ **hard**_.

"Are you going to fucking speak normally or are you just going to stand there and waste my fucking time?!" she snapped. Those eyes were an ocean on fire now.

Cross peered down at her and he subconsciously noticed his breathing was heavy. Most women he dealt with were happy to be in his charmed poises. Sure, he was a ghoul, and _sure_ , the women he interacted with were _also_ ghouls; the world was small, and it made theirs that much smaller. But he never met one he couldn't flatter or keep in his good graces. They were still normal women, just ghoulified.

Evelyn, on the other hand…was _violent_ , and temperamental. She was beautiful, but she harbored some deep, personal grudges against something that kept her demeanor cold. It was a deadly combination- like standing in the middle of a thunderstorm.

And Cross regretfully found that he would chance to stand in it, and risk getting struck.

Relying on the last trick up his sleeve-that normally worked in other disputes such as this-the ghoul cupped the sides of her face gently with both hands and brought her lips up in a kiss. At first, he felt the instant fear of danger that his life was at risk, because with her, it technically was. When no retaliation came, he kept himself firmly planted against her and felt her kiss him back, her soft lips moving with him decisively.

Cross grew enthusiastic until she unexpectedly broke off from him, their mouths coming apart with an audible _smack_ , and she decked him in the side of the face with her good hand. Not enough punch to kill him, thankfully.

" _Are you fucking_ _ **kidding**_ _me?!"_

And just like that, he had braved the storm and was hit by lightning.

Evelyn narrowed her eyes down at him; her chest moved rapidly with her elevated breathing. For a moment, she watched him groan on the ground and his hands clutched at his head. She was surprised he wasn't unconscious. Slowly, she crouched beside him, her fingers sifting through the cold silt of dirt as he squinted an eye at her. There was no resentment at her ferocity, just a knowing thought of _I figured as much._

"Are you deaf, or stupid?" She recalled tonelessly at him.

Cross had rolled onto his side, a palm massaging his jawbone back and forth. It gave a small grinding sound. His face looked confused for a moment, and then he closed his eyes and gave a knowing chuckle. " _I'm persistent_."

She snorted at him, chucking a handful of soil at his chest. "You're persistently stupid, then." And with that, she raised herself off the balls of her feet and walked away.


	12. The Bachelor: Wasteland Edition PT2

Cross took a visit to his old radiation stomping grounds; sitting on the edge of an empty barrel, he lit a cigarette in his mouth and smoked deeply. The heel of his palm rubbed into his forehead; the white smoke being exhaled through his nose. His head **ached**. Twice now he had been slugged in the dome, and both times by the women he had affairs with. He laughed aloud to himself.

In less than a fucking _week_ his life had been completely trampled on. Thinking back to his failed ambush that fateful night, he wished he could have stepped into that memory and altered it forever. The shit he was dealing with was for the birds. But _damn_ him if he didn't like it. Life had been pretty straight-forward for the past several years- get a contract, shoot the contract. Get paid and: buy beer, a meal, and a woman. **Easy**. Now, it was getting messy. There was a new interest in his sights that he did not necessarily want to have but have it he _wanted_. Ghoul or not, he was a man. And some men just fell hard for some women.

He cracked his neck and closed his eyes. But _**God**_ , why did he have to fall for such a _complicated_ woman?!

The searing itch from the radiation snapped him back to reality, and he waited for it to finish while watching the sun make its way down. After a few hours, he was right as rain and proceeded back into town.

* * *

Charon finished reassembling his shotgun back together, beginning to count the number of shells available in their new inventory of supplies. Evelyn had come back from her dealings with the merc wearing a troubled facial expression, and it gave him concern that she might have run into some difficulty without his aid. She said nothing of it, though, when she had come to fetch him from the bar where he had been ordered to wait. He left it alone.

" _Play it again, my Johnny…"_

The Pip-Boy was now fully functional again, much to Evelyn's delight. She had it tuned to a local radio station, and they were both focused on sorting away their things in preparation for the long road ahead.

" _Maybe you're cold, but you're so warm, inside-"_

_**Doesn't Three Dog ever have any new hits to play? Like, c'mon, man!** _

The shells were aplenty. Carefully, and with practiced organizational skills, he stowed them away. When he was done, he remained seated and watched Evelyn go about her packing routine, his fingers thrumming against the table absentmindedly.

" _I was always a fool, for my Johnny-"_

"Why are we going to Braxton?" he rasped at her.

Out of shock from hearing him speak unexpectedly, Evelyn dropped the bottles of purified water from her hands, and they made a _thud_ as they hit the floor. "W-what?" She gave him a weird glance and bent over to retrieve her things. "You asked why?"

" _For the one, they call, Johnny Guitar."_

A single nod.

"Because…because I have to," she told him firmly. "That's why."

He exhaled noisily; his face stony. _"Why?"_

She was busying herself now, erratically placing items where they did not normally go, or in such an obnoxious fashion that she would have to redo it. "Does it matter? I'm going. I've made that clear."

The sound of his chair scraping against the floor filled the room. Within a few strides, he had her cornered against the dresser; a cracked mirror reflected his burning eyes back at himself. "It _does_ matter. _You_ matter." He leaned an arm above her head and bent his face down close to her. _"Why are we going to Braxton?_ "

Charon was an intimidating ghoul; he didn't even have to try. Evelyn had become accustomed to his stoic nature, and his brutal tendencies worked well alongside hers. She knew he would become an invaluable person to her the moment she had purchased his contract.

She placed her hands on his chest, lightly tapping him with her bandaged fingers.

_"I don't want to set the world, on fire-"_

"Do you want to leave me?" As much as she hated herself for crying, she couldn't stop the immense emotion she felt when asking. "Please don't say _no_ because you _have_ to be with me…I don't want you unless you want me."

_"I just want to start, a flame in your heart-"_

The space between them grew a little as he leaned away from her and brought both her hands into his own. She rubbed his palms with her thumb over his fingerless gloves.

_"In my heart I have but one, desire-"_

"Evelyn, look at me," he gently spoke to her.

_"And that one is you-"_

With a sniff, she met his blue eyes with hers, and for once, they held no fire in them. Just a hint of melancholy.

_"No other will do…"_

"I will _always_ want to be with you."

* * *

The ferryman was standing guard outside her door, and he looked _pissed_.

_Will I ever catch a break?_ Cross indignantly thought, and then he remembered the words that would leave his mouth, _h_ _eh. Probably not_.

"Takin' any visitors?" The ghoul came to stand before his other, tilting his head back to look at him fully. "I need to talk to her."

The ferryman said nothing, just remained in place with his arms crossed and leg bent against the door. If his eyes could kill, Cross would've exploded from the impact.

The seconds passed in silence between them until the bounty hunter finally shook his head, grumbling to himself as he turned and walked away. "I'll catch you two in the mornin', then."

He ambled his way back to the tavern, ordering a bottle of scotch and a cup before retreating to a corner aside from the other patrons. An hour passed, and his glass was continuously refilled. He was out of cigarettes, again, and so he fulfilled his oral fixation with more drinking. Another hour passed, and he was finally beginning to feel his taut muscles relax.

It was late. There were few regulars, now, and a sliver of the moon was beginning its climb outside the window. His head was humming, the radiation from earlier melding with the alcoholic buzz he felt inside his skull; it was a euphoric feeling, in its own way. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, focusing on the grainy texture of the booth pressed flat against his bald head.

_Damnit Darcy, I already told you, this_ _**isn't** _ _my kind of work. Find someone else._

The brief memory nearly startled him from his seat. With a _thunk_ of his palm resting against the table for support, he blinked slowly and tried to regain some balance as he sat upright. The bottle was empty. He grumbled to himself; the image of the dead smoothskin woman raped his nonconsensual mind. That golden hair and her fragrant aroma; so sweet it had begun to suffocate him.

_Fuck this_. With a growl, he unsteadily rose from his spot and made a trip down the hallway; the years of practiced routine made his journey almost habitual. When he came to her door, he knocked loudly three times, his fist shaking the frame from the force.

_"Who in the-"_ The shrill rasp quieted down when the door was thrust open. "Oh. It's you. Just what in the world are-"

Her words died in a garble down her throat as massive, gray hands came up and encompassed around her face, nonexistent lips meeting hers desperately. As he stepped inside, one hand was already traveling down the front of her worn dress, the other closing the door behind them.

* * *

_Click_

Charon turned at the sound of his employer's door opening, a small form of skimpy clothing and white skin turning upwards to stare at him. That mass of brunette curls wildly cascaded down her back.

"Did he come back?" she softly questioned, rubbing the slumber from her eyes. "I…I need to apologize, to him." She shrugged her shoulders sheepishly. "Can't really sleep until I do…"

Charon sighed, the massive form of his chest rising and falling. "Yes," he replied in monotone. "But he did not return to his room. I suspect he is still in town somewhere." He waited patiently for her to return inside and close the door, satisfied with his answer.

She bit her lip and he inwardly groaned.

"I'll be back." She sneezed, rubbing at her nose. "I need to put on some shoes, if he comes back, can you-"

"I will go find him. It is cold outside, and your clothing is not adequate enough for the temperature." What his words _really_ translated into was _half of your skin is showing, and with all the creeps in this town, there's no way in_ _ **hell**_ _I'm letting you roam around by yourself._

The bait was nabbed, and he felt her tug at it. "Are you sure? I don't mind-"

He gently grabbed her shoulders, spinning her around to shepherd her back into her room. "I am sure. I will return back shortly." He then reached inside and smoothly closed the door behind himself. With a turn on his heel, he exited the inn and headed straight for the bar.

It was the most logical place, in his mind. The mercenary had previous acquaintance's there, as was brought to his attention earlier with the ghoul woman and their public scuffle. The ferryman gave a once over to the few patrons bending over their drinks; no one met his glowing eyes. Cross wasn't present.

The nightshift barkeep watched him warily as he approached the counter, unsure of Charon's intentions. Charon didn't purposefully mean to frighten the man; he just _did_.

"I am looking for the bounty hunter ghoul, was he here?" Charon asked in his most deadpan voice.

The bartender busily worked a filthy cloth around a glass. "Oh, yeah. He's in the back with Susie, I think." He pointed at the hallway that led around the back of the establishment, and Charon just gave a nod.

Wandering past a few doors, he finally came to a stop before the one that was producing the most noise. His fist pounded on the frame.

The moaning cut off instantly, followed by a few stringed curses and loud footsteps. The sound of clinking buckles could be heard as Charon crossed his arms and tapped his bicep impatiently. The door was then swung open. The half-naked bounty hunter peered at him, blinking stupidly for a moment, and then he seemed to freeze in place. Charon's eyes darted to the woman in her bed, huddling the blanket for modesty over her naked chest.

Without saying a word, Charon took the handle from the dumbfounded ghoul and slammed the door shut so violently the walls of the room shook, earning a shriek from the woman inside. A ruckus of cursing and yelling then sounded behind him as he stalked down the hallway.

When he had returned to the inn, Evelyn was sitting outside her door, her knees drawn to her chest and her hands busy twiddling their thumbs. The sound of his heavy footsteps drew her head up, the ray of hope in her face twisting his gut.

"Did you find him?" she asked optimistically, going to rise from her spot.

Charon hesitated. "Why are you outside your room?" He countered.

"Just in case he came back," she replied, grabbing hold of the arm he proposed to her for support as she got to her feet. "So?"

"He…" Charon paused. As much as he _despised_ the bounty hunter, he did not like seeing Evelyn upset. And boy, would she be _**lethal**_. "Was preoccupied." Was all he offered, leaning away from her slightly as his words began to process on her face.

At first, there was undeniable rage. Her shoulders tensed and her eyes lit up with fury, but before she could explode, she burst into tears and began to bawl.

_"Shit."_

The figure of their conflicts appeared at the end of the hallway, the door to the lobby swinging closed.

Evelyn was hurriedly wiping away at her tears as Charon reached for his weapon, and the merc hastily grasped inside his open jacket for his own.

Both weapons clicked as the safety was drawn back; barrels pointed downrange at the other.

Evelyn stood beside her companion, lightly hugging herself as her shoulders shuddered and tears continued to race down her cheeks. "I-I… _how_ _could_ _you_?" Her voice was thick with emotion; Charon had never seen her this dismayed. It angered him in a way he hadn't felt before. His finger ghosted the trigger and his eyes never left his target.

Cross blew out a sigh, and he genuinely looked upset over her grief. "I fucked up. I-"

"You went ahead and fucked up someone else after you _told_ me you wouldn't! _You fucking liar_!" she seethed at him, roughly wiping away the tears at the corner of her eyes. "I should have _never_ trusted you!"

The bounty hunter felt her words slap him across the face. Those blue eyes were so distraught over his thoughtless choices, and he felt her anchor give away from himself. His boat was sailing away, straight into a thunderstorm.

"The deal is off," she informed him dully, her shoulders slackening as she waved a hand limply at him. "I'll have your money at the desk; we're done."

The words floated past, but he didn't catch them. "Wait, what?" He slowly lowered his gun, the face he gave her was absolutely stunned. _"No, we're_ _ **not**_ _."_ He was no longer in the boat; he was overboard, drowning in the murky waters.

She stepped forward and came to stand a few inches from him, staring so detachedly she looked straight through him. Her cheeks were puffy and tinged ruddy from her crying.

"I **never** want to see you again." The words left her lips, and he had to force himself to read them because there was no sound.

The last thing he saw was her fist coming around to his face; purple-lightning spiderwebbed across his darkened sky in the lonely sea.

* * *

The plate made a loud scraping sound as it was thrust forward under his employer's nose. Evelyn looked up with a hint of annoyance at the ghoul, her eyebrows knitted together crossly.

"You haven't eaten," Charon muttered to her.

"Not hungry," Evelyn mumbled, peering back down to the book she had lain across her side of the table. "You have it."

An exasperated grumble was given. " _Please_ , Evelyn."

"A _please_ isn't going to make me anymore hungry, Charon," she huffed and shoved the food back at him.

In a dramatic fashion, Charon seized the plate up with one hand and slammed it back down over her book, effectively cracking the plate cleanly in half whilst somehow only making minor spillage. The few people in the diner turned their attention to the commotion.

_"Jesus, Charon,"_ Evelyn breathed out, her eyes roving to the others before meeting his glower. _"What the fuck is wrong with you?!"_

Charon leaned back in his seat; the full weight of his body earned a _creak_. "Eat," he ordered.

Unsure if she would actually heed him, he was surprised to watch as she picked up a fork and slowly nibbled on the pieces of the food before her. After a few slow bites, she then quickly devoured the entirety of her meal.

She left a handful of more caps than was necessary on the table when they finished.

* * *

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon; a wide breadth of mountain ranges loomed in the distance. The _whir_ and _click_ of Evelyn's Pip-Boy was a welcomed sound to the ferryman's ears; despite the night's transgressions, everything was seemingly back to normal. His employer reached a hand up to wipe at her eyes furiously, and he mentally sighed; well, hopefully, all would _soon_ go back to normal.

They left the town of Crawshad behind them; a small dot in their peripherals as they continued their journey without the bounty hunter. Charon had verbally wished she had thrown a little more force behind her punch; leaving the slime alive was more than the merc deserved.

"Maybe…maybe we should have gone left-" a dirt-stained finger was directed southward, "-rather than right." That finger then came to rest on a pair of pink lips; her face contorted into confusion.

He grumbled in response to the outspoken thoughts.

They were lost… _again_.

"…I swear this map-" Evelyn blathered on, completely engrossed in the tiny glow of her Pip-Boy as she flicked the knob in rapid succession. Charon crossed his arms and arched his back in a stretch; his passive gaze making a distant sweep of the wastes for any threat, before landing on his employer.

Evelyn chewed on her lower lip; her eyes still downturned to the screen. "Did we already pass the interstate? Was that before, or after-?" she murmured, flexing her bandaged hand carefully. It had been the one she had assaulted the ghoul mercenary with, and it proved to be an unwise decision as it had widened the few lacerations she had reaped from her exploding bottle charade. Charon was already beside her, inspecting her bloodied bandage. "Ow."

"Hold still." He delicately unwrapped her hand, letting the ruined dressing fall to their feet. Charon grumbled something unintelligible. A soft breeze rolled through, providing some relief from the afternoon heat for the two companions.

"You…you talk to yourself so much, y'know that?" Evelyn spoke. "Always complaining about something."

Those hazy eyes studied her hand for a moment. "If you did not act like yourself, maybe I would have no need to."

Her eyes were fixated on his face now. "Was…was that _another_ joke?"

He only growled nonsense to himself in response, ignoring her wide smile at him. He swathed her bruised hand in both of his. She was going to have some scars across her knuckles. "How does this feel?" he asked, stroking a ruined thumb across the back.

She squinted her face and shrugged her shoulders. "Not so bad- _OW_!"

He had depressed both thumbs firmly together from either side, and she recoiled her hand away from him in pain.

"Good, that means there is no nerve damage." He was digging through her pack for another fresh roll of bandages.

"Like hell it does," she muttered tersely under her breath. "You're not a fucking doctor."

"Would you like me to verify again?" He raised an eyebrow muscle down at her.

She huffed and reluctantly held her hand towards him, raising her chin to the sky. He had finished cleaning her cuts and was tightening the knot on her wrapping when he caught her far off stare to the town they had left below, her face drawn sorrowfully. He drew the knot flush across her hand with a little more force than was necessary; she scowled at him as she winced from the sting.

He indicated with his head to the wastes beyond. "Let us go."


	13. Onwards!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mucho mucho thx for the kudos! And always a thank you to blipbleep for the lovely comments; my soul is sated.

"Well, whoever decided to name _Obvious Pass_ should be set on fire," Evelyn mumbled grumpily to herself. With her thumb and index finger, she pinched the knob of her Pip-Boy and flicked it to another area map. "Charon, are you seeing something I'm not?"

The ghoul's glowing eyes burned through the darkness. "No."

_"Ugh."_ Evelyn's frustrated face was illuminated with a soft, neon green glow. _"How-"_

They had been wandering through a narrow ravine for hours now; the sun had long since faded its last rays, the faraway stars and a smiling moon their only companions. The ferryman had suggested prior to dusk that they make camp and resume their journey in the morning light, but Evelyn merely dismissed the idea and ventured further into unknown territory. Whether it was in eager anticipation to make it to their final destination, or to put distance as far between them and Crawshad as possible, Charon did not know.

He assumed it was the latter; she had been crying again.

"I _just-_ _ **ugh!**_ " She kicked at a rock, careening it through the air to join the stars above. _"I'm so fucking stupid!"_

"Yes, you are," Charon agreed in his raspy voice. He watched her whirl around, unable to find him without the light from her Pip-Boy; she had terrible night vision. He crunched his footsteps loudly so she could pinpoint his location as he came close to her. "Let us set up camp; we will try again tomorrow."

With a frustrated huff, she nodded her head angrily and the ferryman continued past her in pure darkness. "Charon- _wait_!" she cried babyishly. "You know I can't see shit!" There had been an eerie skittering noise belonging to some invisible wasteland creature, and her mind instantly assumed the worst- some form of _bug_.

"Use your light," he grumped over his shoulder. There was a sniff, and he turned around and saw her wiping away fresh tears. He internally groaned as he marched back to her. "Did the flashlight not get fixed?" he asked irately, reaching for her hand.

"No…it did," she replied in the most humanely smallest voice possible. "That noise-"

"It is nothing," he lied, his eyes darting back to the overly large, mutated centipede that was observing them along the cliffside. It would be poor tactics to inform his employer of one of her greatest fears and have her scream away their location to the entire wasteland. "Come on."

With a tug, he pulled her along behind him through the suffocating blackness, and he felt her fingers tighten their grasp. "Evelyn, you will break my hand," he warned her, and the iron grip relaxed slightly.

There was a small cave he had marked on his mental atlas that they had passed earlier; deciding that backtracking was a safer bet than resuming forward, the ghoul led her inside and made a quick sweep for any unwanted guests. A fire was made, and both companions were awash in the abounding light of tingling heat. Evelyn performed her nightly routine and was soon curled down inside of her sleeping bag mewling quiet, pathetic noises.

The ferryman groaned cantankerously. **"What is it?"** The ghoul was tired of her sobbing drivel over the bounty hunter; she wanted him out of her life, so _why_ was she still whining over it?

_"Nothing."_

"It is obviously something. Are you hurt?"

_"NO."_ There was a hiccup. "It's just…he-he fucking smokes so much, everything still smells like-Charon- _WHAT ARE YOU DOING?_ " Evelyn abruptly sat upright, gawking as the ferryman was tossing items into the fire. _"Stop!"_

He had picked up her book, holding it precariously over the flames. His head snapped back at her; the pages gave a _ruffle_ as they fluttered open. "If it bothers you that much, then we should get rid of everything we do not need," he said evenly.

She scrabbled towards him; her bandaged hand outstretched for the novel. The silver lettering of _The Great Gatsby_ gleamed brightly in the dancing firelight. "Charon, _please,_ " she begged him, and he reluctantly handed her the book back. She clutched it to her chest and began to sob. "I-I can't _help_ it," she cried, smashing the heel of her palm to her eyes. _"I_ _ **really**_ _did like him."_

The ferryman felt a growl vibrate deep inside his chest. "He was a mistake; move on."

She tenderly tucked the book back inside the depths of her bag, her voice tight. "I'm _trying_ …it doesn't just happen overnight, you know."

A very vivid visual of the Lone Wanderer blinded the ghoul for a moment, and he felt himself grow cold.

"I…I understand." The ferryman sighed tiredly and rubbed at his jaw. "I am sorry."

Evelyn gave a shuddering exhale; her eyes turned to the mouth of the cave, yearning for something in the cover of night. "Yeah, me too."

* * *

_Believe me, Evelyn. I know full well of men and their hideous facades. They wear masks of deceit and drink ales of pleasure; if they promise you the stars and the moon, run. The only thing you will find is the dirt at your feet._

Evelyn rubbed at her tired eyes, yawning loudly into her outstretched hand. _**You're the woman I want…and if you want me gone, I'll go.**_

_Crash!_ Evelyn's bandaged fist sailed into the rocky mountainside, creating a sizeable crater as bits of dust and debris flew everywhere.

"What the _fuck_." Charon was instantly at her side, holding up her newly shattered hand that screamed _you're a fucking_ _ **moron**_ _._ "Are you **serious**?" His eyes were like slits. **"All of these bones are** _ **broken**_ **."**

She bit on her lower lip so fiercely it drew blood, the small crimson stream dripping off her chin. "I-I'm sorry." She couldn't hide the insurmountable pain she felt from her voice.

The ferryman blinked at the indentation; the dust still curling from the blow with its decorative blood splatter. "Who won that battle, I wonder?" he said in his most disappointed tone, giving a shake of his head. "Do not move. I will grab a stimpak."

The injection was made, and Evelyn's face contorted in anguish as the bones began to _pop_ like small fireworks as they commenced to heal. " _Ughhh_ it always feels so _weird,_ " she whined, her wrist limp in Charon's hold.

The ferryman shot her a murderous glare; he was _pissed_. "You have absolutely _nothing_ to complain about."

A few minutes passed as they waited, a rumble of rocks sliding together turning both their heads up the ravine. A familiar face waved to them from above. Charon reached for his shotgun.

"No, no!" Evelyn placed her good palm on his chest, whimpering lightly as her broken hand gave a sickening _crack_. "He's a friend, remember?"

Campbell was beginning to make his way towards them.

"No friend of _mine,_ " the ghoul grumpily retorted.

When the mercenary drew near, he was wearing a sheepish grin and scratching the back of his head. "So, uh-" He then blinked at her bloodied hand, and his eyes darted to the newly formed crater beside them. "Was…was that explosion I heard earlier-"

"Mistakes were made," Evelyn snapped. The bones were nearly healed now, and the ferryman was gently caressing the skin to wash the blood away with a water bottle. "You're alone…I hope?"

"Most mercs usually are," Campbell informed, pointedly looking around. "Did Cross-"

"He's no longer in service with us." She immediately cut him off and worked her jaw in frustration to keep herself from crying. "Why the hell are you here?"

"Whoa, Cazador! I'm just wandering like yourselves." The merc took a cautious step back from the ferryman's lethal glower. "Heading towards Serrato, actually…I thought Cross said you guys were headed to Lake Capers?"

"We _are,_ " she growled, gingerly moving her fingers. The pain was slowly beginning to recede. Her face then tinged red. "…this is the way, isn't it?"

A shake of the mercenary's head made her groan. "I mean, sure, you can get to Lake Capers through Serrato, it's just a few days outta the way is all."

"Shall we go back?" Charon asked, his eyes hawking her face.

She wiped away at the blood down her chin and sniffed. "No. We'll just go through Serrato, I guess." In reality, she did not know if the bounty hunter would be pursuing them or not. As much as she internally _wanted_ him to, she did not wish to see him again so soon, and a few more days of travel between them wouldn't hurt. She eyed Campbell. "What's in Serrato?"

"Super mutants, so I hear." He wiped his dirt-stained hands together. "Probably distant cousins of yours." He pointed at her demolition display.

"Ha _ha_." Evelyn stuck her tongue out at him. "With that intellect, I would say more like _yours_."

The tanned mercenary grinned at her wit and hitched a thumb down the ravine. "So…want a new traveling friend?"

* * *

_Thump_

The bounty hunter groaned as he finally awoke, clutching at his head as he laid there.

_Thump_

The skull-splitting migraine that consumed every fiber of his being threatened to tear him apart, and he garbled something in Hungarian to himself.

_Thump_

"Oh, thank goodness."

_Susie_. He registered her voice, and suddenly the entire episode of his life was played on rewind. He paused it.

_Shit, shit,_ _ **shit**_.

If he wasn't so… _incapacitated_ , he would have gone on a rampage on account of his own idiocy. He struggled to sit upright and open his eyes.

"Easy, Cross," her voice rasped down to him, and he felt her hands gently touch his bare shoulder. "Doctor Marley said you're still in pretty rough shape…Andy thought you were _dead_."

A pained chuckle inwardly coursed through him, despite it all. Yep, that was Evelyn. The one-hit slugger.

The memory of her lachrymose face killed his light mood, and he visibly grimaced as he fought to rise. "Ne-nneed ssome fuckn' watr." He coughed violently, the racking from his chest threatening to rupture him in half.

A cup of irradiated hydration was supplied, and he drank it greedily, indicating for another. The second one he poured over his face and chest. The tinge of slight radiation was a welcomed friend. It took about five minutes of steady breathing until he finally felt he could sit upright without blacking out. "Where…wah-" He harshly squinted at the late afternoon lighting that permeated through the dusty, broken blinds.

Susie was an amalgamated blur, but he recognized her form instantly. "Andy fetched Doctor Marley after he found you in your room. He said your caps didn't cover for-"

A snarl erupted from the mercenary and the ghoul woman startled backward from him. "How _long_ have I been out?"

Susie wrestled her ruined hands together nervously; Cross was _terrifying_ when he was upset. "Almost…three days, including today."

_What the_ _ **fuck**_ _!_ Cross dug the heel of his palms vexingly over his eyes. _She's way gone, now_. It was a blessing that he knew her route.

"What _happened_? You-you just left me after that ghoul came and-" Her voice droned on, and she dropped her concern over his wellbeing as she recounted his stand up that night.

" _Susie, please_ _ **shut the fuck up**_ _."_ Cross's voice was dangerously low, and the clicking of her jaw closing was almost a sweet relief. It wasn't fair to her, though. Everything was entirely his fault, and now she was silently sobbing beside him.

_Must have been keepin' tabs on me to be here now_. He thought, his regret at his sudden hostility towards the woman digging into him. _I don't think I've ever fucked up this bad before_.

That, was a lie.

"I'm sorry," he finally breathed out, blinking rapidly as he turned to look at her. Swinging his legs off the side of the gurney, his hands wearily reached for purchase to steady himself as he began to wobble. "None of this is your fault…I have to go."

She squawked as he went to stand uncertainly, and his large frame crashed into a filing cabinet to their right.

"Cross-!" she exclaimed, rising from her stool and beginning to reach out to him.

" _Don't,"_ he growled, mostly at himself. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he leaned against the metal shelf for a few minutes to regain his bearings.

For the second time in his life, he was completely fucked up by a single hit from her. He was damn lucky she didn't intentionally try and _kill_ him, otherwise, Andy would have been busy scraping his brains off the walls.

* * *

When the merc was finally coherent enough to leave the clinic, he had to come clean to his past flame in the empty alleyway, and he couldn't meet her eyes as he told her the truth of his involvement with Evelyn. He could only imagine how him being with a smoothskin felt to her; it was the ultimate betrayal to most ghouls.

She spat at him and cursed his name with everything under the sun. She pounded at his chest and cried, and then briefly apologized and wanted to resolve, but then grew furious again at his decline.

"I _can't_. I'm sorry," he said, his pounding headache following in tempo with her fists barreling against him. With a quick tug, he brought her into his chest as she wailed against him, and he hugged her tightly with a light kiss atop her head. "You won't be seein' me again. It'll be easier that way. Take care, Susie."

Those large hands shoved deep inside his pockets as he strode away from her, leaving her alone in her grief as he made his way back to the scene of the crime. When he had strode through the front doors, the red-headed clerk gave him a wide-eyed stare.

"You're alive, after all," Andy said dumbly. He then scratched the back of his head in sudden remembrance, and he reached for something beneath the counter. "The woman you were with…she left you this."

A bag of caps clinked upon the counter, and a small paper note was slid forth. Cross grabbed at the message, his eyes reading it hungrily.

_You never gave me your final fee, so, I delegated it upon myself to owe you what was paid before. 50 caps, no complaints._

The words should have made him furious. Fifty measly caps for the past week of _hell_ was a laughable joke, but he couldn't help but grin instead. If she was somehow still able to sarcastically bite at him, then there was still a chance.

No matter how small, it seemed.


	14. The Ambush

_**GASP** _

The ghoul sat upright quickly; his hands curled into fists sluggishly before his chest as his head weaved all around. _There…there…_

There was blood. _A lot of_ _ **blood**_ , and for a moment he did not know if it was his or someone else's. Dumbfoundedly, he wiped his large hands down the front of his torn leather armor, the chest piece simply falling away. With a grunt, he grabbed at the whole thing and winced as his right arm argued **NO**. It was broken. Charon blinked and attempted to make sense of his surroundings, shaking his head as the creeping darkness of unconsciousness threatened to consume him once again. _What…where…_

_**Where is Evelyn?!** _

The realization of her absence nearly sent him into cardiac arrest, his entire body jolting awake with a pure rush of adrenaline. He was fully alert now, and fully aware of just how _fucked_ his body was. A broken right arm, a broken right leg; his left hand was completely shattered, and his ribcage felt like it was dipped into molten metal. There was a rebar protruding from his shoulder; the ferryman was lucky he was still _breathing_.

With a sickening groan, he reached inside the pockets of his pants and produced two stimpaks; he cursed himself for not having more, but was thankful he carried some at all. He was breathing heavily, making a quick risk assessment as to the worst of the damage: what he could live with, and what would kill him.

An injection was made into the leg; the second, to his hand. If he could walk and hold a weapon properly, he could survive with the other two issues until he found more aid. As he waited for the stimpak to finish its process, he took in his situation and attempted to remember the past events that had led to this. He…he was in a _corpse_ pit. There were dead bodies of various decomposer all around him- the _smell_. One of his boots had sunken through the skull of an unknown man; his foot made a revolting _slick_ as he lifted it out of the gray, brain matter.

In fear and desperation, he scanned the carcasses for his employer. Much to his relief- _and_ _anxiety_ -she was not there. Hopefully, that meant she was alive…wherever she may be.

" _Serrato's just through the next pass- we'll be there by sunset, at the latest."_

_**Fuck** _

They had been ambushed. It was all _so_ \- fast. Not a single one of them had expected it; super mutants weren't known for their cunning strategy. They had been traveling for the past few days together; they had gotten complacent from the lack of danger, and their arrogance of skill.

**No**. _He_ had gotten complacent...and it may have cost Evelyn her life.

_**Hey, man, I just wanna let you know, if this is it-** _

Charon grunted in agony as his fingers clutched around the rebar, blood beginning to warmly flow over his hand and making his palm slick. Clenching his jaw so tightly he thought it would crack, he proceeded to rip the metal rod from its fleshy prison and toss it aside. A deep, overly threatening growl rose in his throat; if there had been anyone to bear witness, they would have thought he was feral.

* * *

**Oh my God…he's dead. He's dead and it's my fault…I can't…I-I** _ **can't**_ **.** Evelyn laid her head against the cool concrete of the basement, blind in the dark. She did not know how much time had passed, only that it did, and she was still swimming along in the abyss.

There were no more tears, now. They had all soaked in the darkness at her feet.

" _Heard the town got hit by some muties awhile back, said they were reaching out for some extra guns. Hell, we could all split the share if you guys want to partake."_

They had hauled Campbell away; his screams echoed in her ears. One had attempted a grab at her; she kicked its kneecap straight from its joint and decked it in the side of the face as it had been forced to kneel before her. The slimy gore and bits of skull she watered the dry earth with was enough to catch the rest of the super mutants' attention. They had swarmed her like ants over prey; there were too many- they were _overwhelmed_ -

_Charon_ … _Charon_ _**was**_ …

There was no point in anything, now. Her only friend and trusted companion had been crumpled down and tossed aside; his endurance surprised even the mutants, and they laughed brutishly, continuing their assault when he had struggled to rise. The ferryman ignored their physical blows, those burning embers glowing at her as she felt her arm dislocate and the air leave her body. He was watching her, almost vicariously, and at that moment she realized they were going to die. He watched her cry as she felt herself being lugged through the dirt, away from his helpless gaze.

She had been screaming his name; the overwhelmingly grieved expression upon his face was the only time she had ever seen him upset. And it was the last image she had of him as a super mutant raised a rebar and descended it down; the Archangel Michael slaying the dragon.

* * *

For the most part, it felt like another job.

Track here, disturbance there. A bloodied bandage encrusted with sand; some ashy remains from a cold campfire inside the mouth of a cave. The merc was a damn good tracker, and he had fantastic instincts.

He was crouched before the opening of _Obvious Pass_ , and he was muttering to himself as he reached for a smoke. They _should_ have gone through, if they were following along the route to reach Lake Capers. It was a straight shot through the mountain and would easily cross two days of elevated hiking from their list. But…tracks never lied, even if altered. Not a single human footprint had disturbed the area in a _long_ time. He grumbled and inhaled the nicotine, scratching the back of his head. With careful steps, he backtracked and refollowed the prints left behind; overturned rocks, a _massive_ boot print. _Charon_. White smoke curled around him and he continued on, following down the ravine that led downwards to Serrato. Serrato was a _huge_ detour, why would they-

A massive crater in the side of the rocky outcropping caught his eyes, and he ambled over to it, removing his cigarette to stub it out against the mountainside. There was dried gore splatter, and he turned in his spot to find evidence of blood in the sand with a few well-defined footprints. It appeared a third figure had joined them. A _fight_?

He turned back to the indentation and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to imagine the scene. _No_. It- it _almost_ looked like…Evelyn was unpredictably vicious. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed likely. He blinked at the array of blood, and his fingertips lightly grazed over the molding where her fist had come into contact. He shuddered involuntarily; he was _extremely_ lucky she wasn't aiming to kill him that night.

With a shake of his shoulders, he began the path down the ravine and towards Serrato.

* * *

"I…I AM HUNGRY-" The two super mutants did not notice the stalking shadow that crept in the dark: an invisible, vengeful spirit.

With zero hesitation, the ghoul precipitously sprinted in a half-crouched position; with a jump, he encircled his broken arm tightly around the neck of his first target, leaning back with all of his weight to topple the green giant backward. A gurgled _gpfbhld_ vibrated against his limb; the honed combat knife was sunk into the mutant's eye up to the hilt. Without pause, he yanked the weapon out and reached for the head of the second one; the blade easily sliced through its jugular, a fountain of blood poured forth and washed the sands at their feet.

The ghoul gave short, pained grunts as he focused on his breathing. His ribcage was on fire from the overexertion and his broken arm throbbed in waves of agony. He had managed to stem the bleeding in his shoulder with a makeshift tourniquet, but it was not a permanent fix. However, none of his sufferings mattered at the moment.

He merged back into the shadows.

* * *

_Creaaak_

A single file of fluorescent light penetrated her void of nothing.

Evelyn flinched violently away from the giant, deformed hands that sought her out. It finally grabbed purchase of her disjointed shoulder and tugged her along the grimy floor. She screamed and thrashed until the tremendous anguish she felt rendered her unconscious; she was simply a raggedy doll being carried along by an oversized child.

The mutant made loud, oversimplified words to its others; this one they did _not_ eat, that what was the man was for. She- _strong_. She- _kin_. She- _change, survive change,_ _ **kin**_. They understood, and let their leader proceed to throw her inside of an empty cell along with the few others they deemed _strong_ for the change. The survivors were huddled away in the corner of their cage, eyes wide with fear and bodies wrought with tremors. After the cell was locked and the lumbering giant meandered away, did they scrabble like terrified mice and pull her towards themselves.

" _Shit_. She's out cold-"

"Man, oh man! She's fucking _dead_ , man-"

"Aubrey, help me with her-"

_"We're all fucking dead!"_

A woman reached a hand back and gave a harsh _slap!_ "Shut the _fuck_ up, Mickey! Help us with her!"

The three of them cautiously assessed their unconscious cellmate in hushed tones, until the woman finally decided to grab Evelyn by the collar of her jacket and begin to shake her roughly.

"Careful, Aubrey! That shoulder looks-"

Aubrey snapped her head back. "Tom, who gives a _fuck_ , if we don't get out of here-"

Evelyn awoke with a gasp, crying out in pain as she tried to reach out with both hands.

"Oh _thank God_!" Aubrey held Evelyn upwards, her eyes awash with hopeful desperation. " _Please tell me you have help coming!"_

Evelyn blinked stupidly, processing the words and her situation. "No…no, I don't-" Charon then burst to the forefront of her mind, and her face welled up in grief. _"They're dead."_

She was dropped unceremoniously. _**"Shit, shit!"**_ The woman shoved the hovering man to her right. "We're so _fucked_!"

Mickey had begun to pace, his hands clawing at his ruined greaser hairstyle. "Man, oh _man_ , _fuck this man_!"

Evelyn gasped in discomfort; her shoulder was on **fire**. Her three cellmates were chittering away in their own delusional terrors, and she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. She was so _tired_.

There was an explosion beyond the door.

* * *

Charon grimaced- the shrapnel from that last grenade had struck him in the bicep. He still had not found his weapon of choice; the shotgun had not been located, and he felt awkward with the assault rifle he had picked up from his last opponent. He was more than adept with it, but there was always something about the happiness he felt with his warm shotgun.

There was more angry shouting; a mutant blew open a door and approached him with a crude nail board, the swinging arc of the attack missing the ghoul and landing atop the head of another mutant that had approached from the side. Bits of gore splattered everywhere.

"WRONG ONE!"

Charon took aim and reduced the mutant's face to swiss cheese. He was panting heavily now, and he was almost out of ammo. He had to find Evelyn soon; he did not know how many more enemies he would have to face. Quite suddenly, a door down the hallway exploded from its hinges and flew across the way, impacting against an unsuspecting mutant. It took the full brunt of the force, colliding with the wall behind it and splattering against the concrete.

" **Ch-CHARON!"** Like a sweet tune played to his ears, the ghoul visibly shuddered as he sighed in relief and sprinted towards her. She had fat tears rolling down her face, and she was shaking as he came to her. The first thing he noticed was her arm hanging awkwardly to the side, and despite it, she grasped him tightly. _"Oh my God! I-I thought, I heard you, just now-"_

She then leaned up and kissed him fully on the mouth, and he startled backward from the unexpected welcoming. Quickly looking around, he then spied the three others huddling behind her, their jaws slackened in stupefied disbelief.

"Come," he commanded, grabbing her good hand and leading the small party to a previously cleared room. They barred the doors and the ghoul set her down to the side, observing her injury. "This will _hurt_." With a quick and smooth motion, the ghoul firmly grasped her shoulder and reset the joint as she cried out in pain. "We have to _go_."

As much as his body screamed at him to **STOP MOVING** , he led the five of them through the carnage he had wrought. Dead mutants and small electrical fires provided a trail for them to follow; the ferryman guiding their souls down his river of blood. Throughout it all, he did not let go of her small hand; just the knowing thought that she was somehow still alive did not seem real enough, and he needed her physical touch to ensure she did not vanish like a fever dream.

"To the left-!"

The ground floor. A mutant dog barreled through the open door leading to their escape outside; Charon already had his weapon raised and sights set.

_Click-click_

The poorly maintained rifle was jammed. An audible growl resonated as he planted a foot behind himself for balance, the gun making a smooth sweep above and behind him. With a strong _whoosh_ , the weapon was arced in a throw and made perfect contact with the grotesque mutt's head. It spasmed for a few seconds before finally collapsing. An array of confused shouts and heavy footsteps welcomed them outside, and Charon forced them to take cover around the side of an old fire station, carefully avoiding the hectic sweeps from the mutants.

Evelyn gave two forceful tugs. "We have to get Campbell!"

Charon whirled down on her; he was covered in gore and ash, and he appeared more demonic than he did a man. " _No._ He is already dead."

She ripped her hold from him. "You don't know that-"

Aubrey had sidled close to them; her eyes beheld a crazed gleam. "He's right; whoever your friend is, _leave them_. We can still make it out of here!"

Evelyn snarled. "I will **not**." She then glared up at the ghoul, and she subconsciously hugged her tender shoulder carefully. "Charon. I _order_ you to take these people away from here and get them somewhere safe."

The ghoul grabbed both of her shoulders, and she whimpered loudly from his rough handle. "Evelyn, that is very _**stupid**_ of you." Despite the contradictions he felt, an order was an order; it was very _rare_ that she ever issued them.

The newfound courage she had summoned was slipping away fast; with a steel resolve, she forced herself to hold onto it for just a few moments longer. _**"Go."**_

After much deliberation, the ghoul released her, and he was forced to watch as she scurried away from them, a cold pit forming in his chest.


	15. When the Dust Settles

_**throb**_ every step felt like a hot blade piercing through _**throb**_ she didn't stop; she was fueled by the adrenaline; the will to fight was coursing through her veins with the knowledge that her ferryman was alive _**throb**_ he was _alive_ - _ **thank God**_ -and he would be there for her _**throb**_ the crimson flame lighting her path down the tunnel of blood and darkness _**throb**_

The moment of weakness and utter defeat that had consumed her prior was furiously pounded upon by the wave of her wrath. Charon had been right; she _was_ stupid.

A _skkkk_ as her boots skirted across the dirt; she had turned a corner too fast and drifted into a mutant. The mutant howled and groped Evelyn with one hand, encompassing her into a tight grip as he lifted her high into the air. She gasped in agony and powerfully kicked the mutant's face with her boot, pummeling its skull with a sickening crunch. The mutant didn't free her until it crumpled over backward, and she rolled away from it with a greedy inhale of air.

_**throb throb throb** _

Her left arm was clutched close to her chest; she wavered slightly as she jogged towards the ambush site where they had been pinned. A _crash_ sounded under her boot; her once treasured Pip-Boy had been reduced to a shattered mess of glass and circuitry when they had piled her. There was definitely no hope of fixing _that_. Charon's shotgun had been carelessly tossed aside; whether they did not require it or it was an oversight Evelyn did not question; it felt awkward and heavy in her hands, but she burdened the weight of it.

* * *

**Move move move**. It was the only phrase Charon dared to think about at this point. His quick overturn from despair at Evelyn's possible demise to euphoric relief at her survival was now reduced back to overwhelming anxiety as he proceeded without her.

**Move.**

The tear-stained greaser kid was sniveling loudly; Charon had to quell him with a dark glance that read _I_ _ **will**_ _leave you behind_. The woman and older man both handled the weapons they had scavenged awkwardly; the ferryman doubted they even knew how to release the safety.

A bloodied fist raised up and the group froze in place.

Three mutants lumbered past, screeching inhuman noises and gnashing their teeth brashly. One suddenly stopped, sniffed the air, and then gave a _wvip_ of its head directly at them.

"AHA, FOUND-GHFSGsadjsd-" The ferryman's knife was lodged in the base of its throat; it clutched at the handle wildly before falling forward, the blade protruding through the spine.

The other two were already alerted, and both were being assailed with a rain of bullets as Aubrey and Tom sprayed away blindly. Charon raised his own filched hunting rifle, shooting clean marks through both pairs of eyes.

They collapsed with a heavy _thud_ ; the ferryman retrieved his blade.

* * *

The mutant went flying, impaling itself on a broken beam with a grotesque _**crunch.**_ Evelyn skittered into the cafeteria, immediately slipping over the thin sheet of blood that coated the floor. Her skull cracked against the tile, and she groaned as she struggled back upright.

_"Ehhv-"_

Something was shouting at her, but the words were blurry and distant to her ears.

_"Ghetufp-"_

The high-pitched ringing then stopped, and she slapped herself in the face.

"You fucking made it! Holy hell!"

_Campbell._ She blinked groggily, crawling over to the sound of his voice. His fuzzy silhouette finally settled, and she clutched her fingers around the bars of his cage, grunting from effort as she stretched them wide enough for his exit. A small child emerged with him, and the mercenary bent down to scoop him up in his arms.

"Thank God for you, Cazador!"

"Was that it? Where's everyone else?" she asked dumbly, rubbing at her inner eardrum with a finger. They appeared to be the only survivors she had found.

"Was going to ask you the same thing." Campbell adjusted the kid in his arms, tightening his grip around him. He nodded down to her. "You good? Let's get the fuck out of here."

She nodded. Before they exited the building, she swiped a machete coagulated in blood.

* * *

"This way! If we can make it to the pass, I know a tunnel we can lose them!" Aubrey pointed to the opening in the cliffside, her breathing heavy as they ran through the town square.

They were so _close_. The mutants were thinning; their numbers were few, now. They were scattered and screaming confusion at each other. When they finally made it to the dark, narrow cave entry, Charon spun on his heel and began to depart.

"Whoa, wait! You can't just leave us!" The woman attempted to grab at him, but he was already out of her reach.

"I have fulfilled my order. You are _safe_." The ghoul then hustled away from the party, running straight back into the din of the firefight.

He made it back to the town square, planting his boots firmly before him to stop. Evelyn and the mercenary were behind cover, bullets spraying along the brick wall. Charon pointed his rifle across the way, giving himself cover fire as he steadily moved towards them.

"Well I'll be damned! You too!?" Campbell had a grenade in one hand and a child curled into him in the other. He pulled the pin with his teeth and tossed the explosive behind them. The sound of flesh being torn apart left little to the imagination.

Evelyn sat forward, bringing his strapped shotgun to the front of her chest. "I got you a present," she weakly joked, handing him his things. Their bags were laid at her feet, and he blinked down at her.

"Thank you," was all he managed to say, appreciating the weight of his customized weapon in his palms.

A loud roar made all three peek out. A rather _large_ super mutant was stomping its way towards them, and Evelyn recognized it as the one that had dislocated her shoulder. As much as she hated herself for it, she trembled in spot, her teeth clattering together.

"It is okay." A warm hand on her good shoulder tore her gaze to the side. The ferryman did not break his focus from the lumbering beast, but nonetheless, she felt reassured. She wrapped her fingers around his own and gave a light squeeze, and then returned her attention back to the encroaching intruder.

"So this one all me or-?" Campbell joked beside them.

"May I see that?" Charon nudged his chin at her large blade.

She presented the handle to him, and he flexed his grip as he took it in his palm. He knew full well she could slice through the mutant like butter with the thing, but she was tired, and he could make out her left shoulder spasming. Even if he was in worse shape physically, he did not want her to risk herself any more than she already did.

The mutant was holding a sizeable sledgehammer across its chest; problematic only if it made contact with him.

" _Charon-"_ she cried at him, reading the intentions in his eyes.

Those smoldering embers transfixed on her. "Do not worry; I was not planning to in the first place." He then stood, towering over them as he calculated the trajectory and frisbeed the machete through the air.

The mutant was already too close to dodge and too surprised to register a countermove. The sharp blade made a clean slice; the head toppled forward to loll around at its feet.

The ghoul appeared smug. "Let us go."

* * *

"Ow- _ow_ , Charon, not so rough!" Evelyn squirmed under his heavy hands as they forcibly gripped the sides of her face and he rotated her around. She was coated in so much blood, and he intensely scrutinized her to ensure it wasn't hers. After ten minutes of analytical observation, he finally stopped shaking her around like a ragdoll and held her face close to his. A brief flash to their momentary kiss made him instantly drop her, as though she had burned him.

"You are fine," he concluded.

"I could've just _told_ you that," she growled, rubbing the sting from her pinched cheeks. "Now will you _please_ sit down? I _know_ you're hurt." The strained emotion in her voice made him sigh, and he relented. She dove into her bag, brushing her clotted hair from her face.

The group was now seven strong; Charon's previous charted souls had made the decision in waiting out for them for as long as they cared to, visibly relieved at the sight of more survivors. They were camping in the tunnels to regain some structure and sleep; it was a long trek to Lake Capers, and they could not afford to lose anyone to injury or carelessness. The ghoul had come out with the worst damage report; everyone else just tended to their private thoughts and future nightmares.

She ripped his tattered shirt in half. "I don't know how many more shirts we'll be able to find in your size, big guy." She untwined his tourniquet, pressing her fingers lightly to the mangled flesh of his shoulder. An injection was made, and another to his broken arm. She wrung out water from a rag and gently wiped the blood and ash from his scorched body. "Do you want a med-x?"

His head lolled to the side at her, his glare giving birth to her laughter. It bounced off the cave walls, and heads turned to the sound.

The mercenary approached them with three water bottles in hand. He handed her one, downing his own as he watched her uncap it and slowly hand it to the ghoul. "Will he be alright?" he asked.

Evelyn watched uncertainly as Charon coughed from a drink, water sputtering down his person. "I hope you didn't survive all that just to drown from a water bottle," she said wryly.

He leaned forward slightly to sit upright. **"Fuck-** _ **you**_ **…"** he growled, taking another swig.

"Yeah, I think he'll live." Internally, Evelyn was _damn_ relieved at the ghoul's condition. Their months of traveling together had created a deeper impression than she initially realized, and the recent imagery of what she had thought was their last moments-

"Hey, are _you_ okay?" Campbell bumped her with his shoulder, a concerned expression on his face.

Evelyn felt the tears roll down her cheeks; her voice was small. "Yeah…yeah-I'm good. Thanks." She rubbed at the sore skin of her eyes and sniffed loudly; snot was running down her nose and she wiped it away with the back of her hand.

Charon nudged her roughly with his elbow, finishing his drink.

* * *

It was…well, it was a total shitshow, is what it was.

The bounty hunter roved the binoculars slowly, his observance of the town that was once Serrato not filling his mind with happy thoughts. _Shit_.

There were corpses _everywhere_. Mutants, humans, brahmin, _dogs_ \- was there _anyone_ still alive down there? The binoculars were lowered from his face, and he gave a depressed sigh. There had been earlier tracks up the pass of a scuffle of some sort, and now he feared the worst. _Whatever_ had transpired just a couple of days prior had long left him in the dust of it all. The only thing that remained was the shit and the blood.

He made a fervent prayer to the only God he knew that he wasn't about to find Evelyn's mangled body in some way down there. If he did…well, he didn't think about it. It was to be the bridge that he would cross when he got there. He cautiously searched; her Pip-Boy had been laid to waste. He gingerly picked it up and overturned it in his hands. Super mutants were fucking _brutes._ He lit a cigarette and rubbed at his eyes. As he continued, there was still no sign of a body. He did not know whether to be thankful, or apprehensive.

There was an obvious indication of a firefight, perhaps that was them? The ferryman was nowhere to be seen, and so he concluded that they had somehow made it through the ordeal in enough pieces to hightail it. There was another trail of tracks, this one a lot messier and flecked with blood. It was leading towards Lake Capers, and he knew it was the one to follow.

* * *

" _You fucking tell Harrington to let us in_ _ **now**_ _!"_ Aubrey's voice cracked as she wailed. The piercing harpy cry was answered with the sounds of mechanical whirring; the draw bridge was beginning to lower.

A man clothed in mismatching riot gear jogged forward after the bridge was fully dropped. "I need-"

Aubrey shoved her blood-stained hands on the man's chest, pushing him aside weakly with what little strength she could muster. "You can _fuck right off!_ Tell Harrington to get his ass over here _now_!"

The man was so startled by her hysteria that he nearly dropped his gun. The helmet turned to survey the rest of the group, and he gave a curt nod. He turned on his heel and made a circling motion with a closed fist high in the air, flashing seven fingers to an invisible sentry. The group was stewarded inside the city; there was the sound of water lapping high against the beams of the bridge as it was raised behind them. The dark clouds rumbled overhead; the air was pregnant with the expectance of rain. A few more guards had come to assist; they soon found themselves escorted inside the city medical clinic.

Evelyn sat on a ruined sofa that lined against the far wall; she leaned her head back into the cushions and closed her eyes to the uproar around them. A heavy weight settled beside her, causing the seat to dip inwards towards the ghoul.

"Worst detour ever," she breathed out. "Next time, we'll stick to the map." The realization that she had lost their sense of direction- _again_ -made her jolt forward. "Oh my God, the Pip-Boy-" She covered her face with her hands, sighing aggravatedly into them. "I wonder if by chance someone has one to sell around here…"

Charon grunted. "They are rare, Evelyn. If you can find one someone is willing to part with, I will find you a mirelurk that can sing." His tone was bone-dry.

She slightly parted her fingers to look at him. "I _hate_ you."

He snorted. "I do not think you do."

Remembering the spontaneous kiss they had shared inflamed her neck and face, and then she thought back to the bounty hunter. For a moment, she looked devastated, and Charon sighed, grumbling irritably.

Campbell approached them. "Boss man wants a word with us."

* * *

"Aubrey, look, I just don't have the resources-"

A hand slammed down on a desk; papers were then scattered around the room as she screeched at the man.

"Are you _fucking kidding me_?!" she raged. "The whole town is a fucking graveyard, Al! People were getting eaten _alive_ while you sat on your ass and let it happen!"

The mayor of Lake Capers leaned forward in his seat, resting the heel of his palms against the table and steepling his fingers. He seemed unfazed by her hysterics. "There's been a problem with super mutants in the past raiding through, but Kent always had it under control. I didn't think-"

"Oh, that's right, assume assume _assume_! That's some bullshit!" Aubrey wiped the hair from her splotched face, angrily pacing around the room.

Al Harrington just pinched the bridge of his nose. "Coop, when's that team ready to head out?"

The chief of security twined his fingers through his belt loops, taking a thumb and raising the tip of his hat with it. "Three days, give or take."

"Are you happy, Aubrey? We'll provide damage control, and then go about getting Serrato stable again." The mayor turned his attention on the three standing to the side. "So, I guess I've got you to thank for doing our job for us."

Evelyn was staring a hole through the woman who had so hypocritically spoken; the recount of how willing she was to leave Campbell and the others behind made her flush with anger. Charon nudged her in the side when she didn't respond to the question asked. "Hrm? Sorry, what?"

A sigh. "We would like a full report on the situation, and what to possibly expect before we send our team out. Would you like to handle this now, or later? I can see you all look like hell." He pointedly looked at the shirtless ghoul. "Or just been through it."

"Later," Evelyn spoke.

"Very well. Chief Cooper here can answer any questions you may have." He went to stand from his chair. "Oh, and welcome to Lake Capers."


	16. The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut abounds.

The air outside was so thick one felt to be swimming through it.

Two rooms were purchased along with some food, but after a hot shower, Evelyn complained of mild headaches and went to bed without eating. The ferryman refused to leave her alone; she had finally disclosed to him that she had minorly injured her head; he berated her and decided to stand watch in case it proved serious. She fell asleep in her towel, and the ghoul tucked her away under the swath of blankets. Hours passed, and Campbell had knocked at their door. Evelyn awoke, drenched in sweat; the ferryman knew she had nightmares just from the way she regarded him. He forced her to sit and shovel something into her stomach before he ultimately allowed them to leave. Campbell had brought an oversized shirt, and Charon merely grumbled at the extremely tight fit.

They strolled into the security headquarters; Charon was gawked at.

"As you know, I'm Chief Cooper. I run the security detail here in Lake Capers, and oversight the actions of the Caper Protection Force. But, please, call me Coop." The handle-bar mustached man directed for them to be seated inside of a conference room. "This is Deputy Jenkins-" He indicated to the blonde woman on his right. "-and Deputy Espinoza." A man on his left. "Tell me what you can."

Campbell took lead on the story, filling in his bits as Evelyn recounted her side. Charon remained silent the entire time with his arms crossed, not caring to speak.

"I'm sorry we couldn't be there to assist; I've been trying to send out a squad for a couple of weeks now, but, sometimes orders are orders." Coop ducked his head and coughed. "Thank you for doing what you could."

He blinked at the ferryman and his intimidating nature. "You sound like hell with legs; if you ever need a job, you come to me."

Charon snorted.

They all then parted back to their respective lodgings, and Evelyn crawled into bed. She dared not fall asleep, however; the recount of her ferryman in his death throes ached at the forefront of her mind, and she shivered to herself as she remembered his pained face. After minutes of restless tossing and turning, she went to his room and knocked.

"What is wrong?" he asked her, alive and well as he opened his door wide for her.

She only sniffled and buried herself underneath the blanket of his unused bed. The sound of footsteps came to the side of her, and then his weight sunk down on the mattress. He ripped the quilted sheet off of her person rudely.

"Stop it," he ordered her. "If this is about the bounty hunter-"

She sat upright, angrily shoving him in the side. "It's about _you_ , you fucking moron!" she snapped, and then she broke down into tears, her voice cracking. "I…I thought you _died_ , Charon." She furiously wiped at her eyes. "It's all I can _see_."

The ghoul laughed a little meanly at her, and she snuffed snot up her nose and glared at him. "Do I _look_ dead to you?"

She narrowed her eyes, unloading her own arsenal of malicious quips. "Is this a trick question?"

He gave a humored snort. "Evelyn, that is the danger we face every day. It is what we _will_ face if we continue to Braxton."

She was about to retort something, but then snapped her jaw shut instead; she looked away with troubled thoughts.

"Tomorrow I'll go and get some supplies. I should try and get some sleep." Her voice had grown weary, and the ghoul just shook his head and muttered under his breath as she rose to retire to her own quarters.

That night she was terrorized by her fitful dreams.

* * *

_Lake Capers_.

The merc was grumbling to himself irritably. He had smoked so damn much from his anxious paranoia about Evelyn's wellbeing that he had run out prematurely. It was a long hike from Serrato, and the only thing that had kept him company were the radscorpions and large grooves in the dirt as he continued down their trail.

The city loomed before him; a testament to the accomplishments of mankind before they nuked the shit out of each other. It was a great post-apocalyptic stronghold; strategically surrounded by the encompassing mass of water, the only to and from the city being a working drawbridge and an underground car tunnel that connected to the mainland. As per usual when visiting, he was succumbed to questioning and a simple pat-down from Caper Force Protection, or, _CFP_ , as they so-called themselves.

"Welcome to Lake Capers; I'm sure Chief Cooper will want to discuss some mercenary work with you, we have _plenty_ of it lately." A single finger was held up to their sniper sentry.

The merc had pulled out his long, leather slicker in preparation for the gray clouds overhead, and was damn glad he did as the cold water began to cry from the heavens. It was a heavy burst, and anyone caught unawares was soon scrambling for appropriate shelter. A large, grey hand pulled on the hood of his trench coat, the water streaming down his forearm like a spout from a gargoyle. A clap of thunder _**boomed**_ overhead; his fingers were now reaching down and turning a door handle with a twist. The sound of the rain was muffled behind him as he closed the door to the tavern, and he slicked his hood back and shook his shoulders as some icy water snaked down his spine.

"Well _goddamn_ , ya don't got to shake like a damn dog!" a female voice chastised him. "Now, wait a goddamn sec… _Cross_ , you slimy _bastard_!"

_Uh-oh_

"It's good to see ya!"

A warm smile presented itself, and he visibly relaxed. There was no way in _hell_ he was about to repeat himself in this town. "Heya Ruby." He took a quick glance around the bustling barroom; no one really noticed his entrance. "Scotch. Please."

"Good choice; nasty weather like this." The raven-haired bartender reached around and grabbed at a bottle on the top shelf. With a _clunk_ , she set it down as the merc took a seat. A married glass was slid towards his elbow. "So, what brings you round these parts _Cowboy_? Serrato is a done deal; don't know if ya heard…"

Cross swallowed a long draught, busily pouring himself another as he gathered his thoughts. "Just came through Serrato myself, damn shame…you wouldn't happen to know…?" He let the unfinished question hang in the air.

Ruby was setting clean glasses rim-side down on a fresh towel. "Oh yeah…only a few folks made it. Campbell's here; just saw him yesterday. He said it was _bad,_ only reason they all made it out was thanks to some woman and her ghoul friend. Haven't met them yet."

The weight of the world finally eased itself from his tired shoulders. _Thank_ _ **God**_ _._ "They're friends of mine; know by chance where they're stayin'?"

* * *

The rain was now a steady drizzle. The thunder was beginning to roll along the highway of the sky, and his large boots splashed through the minor flash flood that plagued the street. The glowing neon lights of _Capers Hotal_ blinked warily. The merc stared up at the old hospital-turned-hotel with a growing sense of excitement and dread; he was unsure how to proceed from here. But, as God would have it, he didn't have much of a choice. The woman of his trepidations strode through the revolving doors; absent of her guardian and not noticing his presence to the side. The moment he had been reciting in his mind for the past few days was slipping away from him as he just stood frozen to his spot and watched her walk away; the distance between them growing as his thoughts grew blank and his feet grew cold.

The thunder rumbled, and he finally moved.

"Hey-hey!"

She visibly bristled and spun around; her hood flew free of her face. He abruptly paused and blinked down at her; there were dark circles under her eyes. _**Exhausted**_.

They both stood there under heavens shower; neither spoke a word as their eyes each roved over the other. All of his rehearsed apologies and careful words that he had been planning went out the wayside of his brain; his tongue was numb.

"What do you _want_?" her voice cracked. There was no anticipated fury in her eyes, just an extremely blue glimmer.

The rain continued, and now she was soaked. Her hair colored dark and it flowed around her neck and shoulders, clinging to the skin as though in fear it would wash away. He could not tell if she was crying or not; the rain was weeping for her.

For the first time, he didn't even crave a smoke.

"You," he said stupidly, his mouth speaking without him filtering first. "I-I do." He came to stand extremely close to her, their bodies only inches apart. "I haven't stopped thinkin' about you, you know…I fucked up. I did. I can't take that back."

The silence then stretched between them for what seemed like an eternity, and he was trapped in the gravity of her dying star. The cold rain beating down upon them constituted her own galaxy; when she finally spoke, it felt like a supernova point-blank to his chest.

_"Is that it?"_

The merc rubbed his jaw painfully, fighting away the trembling he felt in his knees. "I can only give you my word that I will _never_ hurt you again, however much that still means to you." He began to reach a hand towards her, but then thought better of it and rubbed the heel of his palm on his forehead, the water cascading down his chin. "I…I don't deserve someone like you. I _know_ that-it's just…" He paused, considering his thoughts. "You don't need someone like me to live your life, but, Evelyn, _I fuckin' need you in mine_."

The honesty hurt him as much as her indifference to his words. He had ripped his soul straight from his body and handed it to her for her viewing pleasure. "Wh-what was it you said to me? That night in Hark's Park; somethin' _kiss_ somethin' _die_ -"

She barked out a mean laugh and looked down; the rain gently pinpricked the backside of her neck. "It's Shakespeare; _thus with a kiss, I die_."

When he didn't respond, she turned up to stare at him. Those milky irises deeply navigated the depths of her ocean. He tentatively reached forward and embraced her close to himself. His body was so intensely warm, almost akin to the tinge of radiation, and she simply let herself melt into him. He was staring at her so powerfully she felt as though she might possibly faint.

When he spoke, his raspy voice was so heavily husky that it sparked an electrical storm throughout her body. _"Yeah, that one."_

And he kissed her as though he would.

* * *

_Slam_

The door to her room pounded violently against its frame as the two worked frantically at the other's attire. Wet articles of clothing were discarded in a sloppy array across the floor.

She stood there, as raw as he was; set in the clay that God had formed them from.

He guided her to sit on the edge of the bed, kneeling in between her open legs. With deliberation, the mercenary brought his rough mouth to the soft skin of her inner thigh, his hands grabbing at her breasts firmly as he kissed her and then proceeded to suck on her. She breathed out pleasurably, both hands encircling around the back of his head. With a noisy _plop_ he released her, observing the way the skin immediately bruised dark red from his affections. Moving closer up along her thigh, his hot breath tickled her as his tongue roughly drew over her soft folds down below, running up and down along her clitoris. She gasped in surprise at his technique, her body shuddering under his touch.

When he finally removed himself, he leaned back to fully view her.

" _ **Fuck,"**_ she said thickly.

_Thought you'd like that_. He smirked smugly. With a turn, he sat down beside her and motioned for her to straddle him. She complied, her hair caressing his face as she maneuvered over his thighs. She was now seated on top of him, her fingers running lightly down his chest. He grunted and reached both his hands down to clutch the balls of her feet, placing the topside of them lying flat across his knees. She was now precariously balanced over his legs, and she leaned forward until her breasts were flush against his chest. They kissed passionately for a few moments, their hands exploring the valley of each other's bodies feverishly.

The stiff muscle of his member was digging into her stomach slightly, and without breaking their kiss, he reached a hand down and directed the tip of himself into her. She moaned into his mouth, but he didn't insert himself fully. Those grey hands came to find their place around her hips firmly, and he smoothly balanced the gravity of her weight. With a lift and a _smack_ , the tip of his cock swung back out from inside until he again brought her down, only submerging the initial part of himself. It was maddening, teasing himself like that. But he knew it was just as exasperating for her, and after only a few minutes, her body was shivering and she was hotly dripping onto his thighs. Her whimpering was overly inebriating.

She reached down eagerly and grabbed at him, lowering herself all the way down his shaft. He grunted in pleasure at the sudden carnal high and he gave her a glowering look.

"Don't be so impatient," he huskily rasped, exhaling forcefully through his nostrils. " _I'm_ callin' the shots here."

She only bit her lower lip and whimpered at him, and he tilted his head forward for a kiss. Her lips reciprocated, their tongues swathing around each other.

Now that the light teasing was ruined, he reached around and cupped her ass in each hand, lifting her body up and down in a fast, smooth motion. They broke off from their kiss and she brought her hands to cover her face, her breasts smacking against her chest as she cried out. He then slowed his tempo dramatically, grabbing a nipple with his mouth and sucking on her loudly as he ground her groin against him.

Her hands were at his shoulders, and her back was arching towards him as his rough tongue worked wonders against her areola. She was beginning to peak, and when he finally felt that overwhelming heat, he released her breast and pounded into her to finish himself. When he finally came, he buried his head in between the valley of her breasts, breathing heavily from the mind-numbing high he was riding. Slowly, his mouth traveled along her skin in search of her lips, and when they met, he gently grasped her face in his palms, running his hands through her thick hair.

He would _never_ let go of her, _ever_ again.

* * *

Evening had come, and he let her continue to sleep. He was seated at the table, finally enjoying a cigarette after leaving momentarily to purchase his habit.

Hell, even _he_ was tired, after all of the physical activity between them in the hours of that afternoon. She had clearly missed at least _some_ part of him. But that didn't matter anymore; he had successfully won himself back in her good graces, and he was going to cross his t's and dot his i's to keep it that way.

As though his thoughts had somehow disturbed her, she finally rolled over and stretched; the blanket shifted along her naked skin. She slowly came upright and mussed with her hair, tossing it over one shoulder before rising out of bed.

"Sleep well?" his gravelly voice asked.

"What sleep?" she joked, her voice drowsy.

He exhaled a stream of smoke to the side, observing her biting her bottom lip as she came to kneel before him in between his legs. She placed her head on his thigh, and her hands were roaming around his waist under his jacket.

_Well, that's a nice change_.

Suddenly, she tasked herself with undressing his lower half, and he set his cigarette to the side as he helped her with shifting out of his jeans. Before he could fully remove them, she had her mouth wrapped around the tip of his cock and her tongue was thrashing firmly over it. She was artfully bobbing her head up and down as she gagged on him, and his fingers dug themselves inside her hair as he watched her have her way with himself. It was only a few minutes until he came inside her mouth, and she swallowed him down as her tongue swirled around the tip. He groaned, his hot breath washing down her neck as she kept at him, and he had to pull her off before he felt like he would pass out from the intensity. There was a _plop_ as his dick left her wet lips, and she appeared extremely smug.

" _Jesus,"_ he breathed out, his body lightly shaking as his orgasm began to ebb away.

"I don't think he would approve," she teased, taking her hand and shoving his head to the side playfully. "You can make it up to me later."

She then left him alone and went inside the bathroom, shutting the door behind herself; the sound of the shower turned on. He redressed and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand; a fingertip grazed his cigarette as there was a knock at the door. The merc left his habit at the table as he answered the summons.

It was déjà vu- the ferryman was towering before him. Both men stared at each other passively. Without any warning, Charon snatched Cross by the collar of his leather jacket, hoisting him off his feet and slamming him into the wall in the hallway.

"Get off me, you bastard!" Cross snarled, his strong hands coming up and gripping at Charon's wrists.

Heavy, reinforced steel-toe boots launched themselves at Charon's body, but it was like kicking stone. The bounty hunter grunted as he continued his attack, his hands working on releasing Charon's iron grip.

Something snapped in the ferryman's brain, and he simply dropped the merc at his feet. The grey ghoul fumbled to the side to regain his balance, and an uppercut planted itself directly in his face. Cross hit the floor with a _thud_ ; there was a scream down the corridor. The merc sluggishly blinked; he quickly rolled away to the side, narrowly avoiding Charon's massive boot coming down on his skull.

The merc already had his hands fumbling inside of his jacket as he sat upright against the wall, struggling to the side. A small body flew over him; Evelyn's wet hair slapped against his face as she protectively laid across him. Her overly large, gray shirt began to hitch up her thighs as she leaned back into him.

The ferryman instantly froze; his fists came down to his sides and his eyes were aflame to kill. "Move," he commanded.

Evelyn shook her head, her breathing heavy. "No."

"Evelyn, **move**."

_**"No."**_

Charon gave her a weird look, and then he snorted and rubbed at his eyes. "This…you cannot be **serious**."

Evelyn darted her gaze down the hallway; a few others were watching their drama unfold with curious intent from within the safety of their doorways. Her eyes snapped back to the incredulous bodyguard. "I'll come and talk to you."

He was working his jaw angrily. "As you _wish_." He then stalked down the hall; the guests shrunk back inside their rooms as he passed.

The sound of his door slamming reverberated back to them; Evelyn released a shuddering sigh and melted her head back into the merc's chest.

Cross couldn't help but think back to their first intimate encounter; the parade of buffout bottles from the rusted safe, and her standoff as she had protected the ferryman from his homicidal intent. There was a vibration beneath her, and she bounced lightly as he laughed aloud. Ignoring the peeping eyes and his pounding skull, the ghoul wrapped his arms around her tightly and kissed the damp skin of her neck.

Things were back to normal, after all.


	17. The Eastern Cowboy

When she had finally entered his room, he was waiting for her in his usual position. His arms were folded; one leg was drawn up as he leaned against the wall. The rhythmic tapping of his finger against his bicep kept beat with her pounding heart. Those eyes- _those damn_ _ **eyes**_ -stalked her like a hawk would a mouse. The door closed softly behind her with a _click._

"So…um-"

"What is it you **want** , Evelyn?" the ghoul interrupted her; his tone was so aggressively livid she felt the words strike her across the face like a closed fist. "Do you _wish_ to be with him?"

She gaped at his sudden intrusive hostility. "Wh-pf- _yes_ , Charon, _I do!_ I told you-"

"You _told_ him you never wanted to see him again. And yet, here he is, with _you_." His boots made large thuds across the room as he came to tower over her. _"Evelyn, he hurt you."_

She made a pained gasp and shrunk away from him. "It's my choice, Charon!" she cried, as a toddler would to their parent. "I just want to be _with_ him, if-if-"

His tone took a complete 180, the gentle words unexpected. " _I_ just want to be with _you_."

She squeaked as he brought his hands up to her face. The blood pooled in her cheeks and she felt very warm embraced in his touch.

The ferryman stared into her eyes, and he felt her hot breath wash over him. A ruined thumb stroked across her bottom lip, and for a moment, he gazed at her hungrily. Leaning forward, he planted a firm kiss on her forehead, and then released her to stand away. "I wish to remain at your side; no matter the choices you make."

Evelyn slowly backed into the doorframe. A breath hitched in her chest; the ferryman would no longer meet her eyes. She ran a hand angrily across her mouth; the door closing shut behind her.

The bounty hunter was half-naked when she reentered their room; his jacket was draped over a chair and he was sitting on the edge of the bed smoking. "Well? We kiss and make up?"

She grabbed at his jacket and thrust it at him. "Let's go get a drink."

* * *

The soft jazz music whispered around the room, enticing patrons with honeyed lyrics and flowing instrumentals.

" _Living for you, is easy living-"_

Soft murmurs of words were indiscernible to those not directly related in conversation, the _clink_ of glasses adding to the din of the bar.

" _It's easy to live, when you're in_ _ **love-**_ _"_

The bounty hunter tapped at his glass with the tip of his bony index finger.

" _And I'm so in love-"_

"So." He took a swig of his drink, the burn of the liquor well acquainted with his throat.

" _I never regret the years that I'm giving-"_

"So," she repeated, turning her head to look at him. Those cerulean blues implored his milky hazels.

" _They're easy to give, when you're in_ _ **love-**_ _"_

She released a shuddering breath, and he realized she was struggling not to cry. "Hey, you okay?" He lowered the glass onto the surface of the counter, bringing his free hand around to cup underneath her chin. "Evelyn."

" _ **There's nothing in life, but you**_ _."_

"I just…I just want to sit here, for a while-I…I need a drink."

He handed her his own, and she swallowed its contents, her face screwing up in disgust. She gasped. "What the _fuck_ is this? Are you drinking _gasoline_?"

He chuckled, taking the tall bottle at his side and pouring her refill. "Close." He winked at her, the neon lighting of the bar made his eyes glow strangely. "Motor oil."

"I honestly would not be surprised," she muttered into the glass, taking another drink. She breathed sharply through her nose as it burned a hole into the pit of her stomach, and he found her intolerance kind of cute. Her eyes scoped around the room, and she noticed two men staring at them intently. She narrowed her eyes threateningly in return.

The glass was being set back down, but Cross intercepted it. He noticed her lethal stare, and he craned his neck to the side to catch her drift. "Don't mind them." He drained the alcohol. "They just don't like what they're seein'."

" _I_ don't like what I'm seeing," she angrily replied, and he saw her entire body tense like a stalking tiger. With a gruff laugh, he set aside his cup and grabbed at her hand that was now dangerously forming into a fist. Bringing her knuckles to his mouth, he softly kissed them and succeeded in bringing her attention back to him. Her face softened as her eyes met his. "Well, now I like it."

For the first time in over two hundred years, the ghoul felt something akin to a blush. Since he had no skin, there was no visible evidence to it, but the hardened leather of his cheek muscles grew unexpectedly tight and his heart awkwardly skipped a beat. "That's good, 'cause it's all I got."

She laughed, and he didn't realize he had missed the sound so much until now. He leaned over and dug a hand through her hair as he kissed her, and they worked at each other for a few moments until she broke away from him, a coy smile upon her lips.

"I thought we came here to _drink_." She leaned her elbow on the counter, resting her chin in her palm.

His brain was murmuring happy thoughts to himself as he stared at her under the halo of the neon glow. That wave of tawny hair elegantly rolled down her back in a soft tumble. Her jacket was draped over her chair; the long sleeves of her baby blue shirt complimenting her eyes nicely. She was taking in everything around them with a sort of hidden interest, trying to absorb the ways of this new world they had stepped into. There was an innocent sort of nature about her as she bit her bottom lip and gazed around shyly.

The temptation to take her back to the hotel and make love to her was extremely strong; he was about to take a last drink when a face ambled down to their side of the bar counter.

"So, pretty thing, what are we drinking tonight?" Ruby leaned forward on her elbows towards Evelyn, a small wink cast at the ghoul. "I saw you two going at each other over here; you're going to need something _strong_ to wash that taste out."

Evelyn's face turned a light shade of pink, and she pursed her lips together in awkwardness.

Cross pointed at a bottle on the high shelf. "Thanks, Ruby. I think you're swell too."

The bartender flashed them a smirk and brought the selected choice down with another glass, taking his caps and beginning to walk away.

The bounty hunter uncorked the new bottle and poured the liquid, sliding the cup towards her. "Here. I thought you might like this."

She took a precautionary sniff, giving a shrug and taking a sip. Her eyes brightened and she took another. "What is this?"

"It's white wine. You hate hard liquor, and you're always eatin' those damn sweets; figured this was somethin' up your alley." He grabbed his bottle of scotch. "Nice thing about bigger cities, they almost got damn near _anythin'._ "

She was already done with her initial round by the time he was filling his cup. She gingerly pushed the glass towards him in tiny increments with the tips of her fingers; the empty chalice painstakingly making its way across the table to him.

"You want another drink, or you want to fuckin' die of old age before you get it?" he growled at her, and she smiled childishly at him as he refilled her glass. His threats were hollow with her, at this point. He had been reduced to a chained dog, all bark, no bite.

She was on her third glass, now, taking a drink and giving a wide smile to someone approaching them. "Hey there, mutant side dish." She crinkled her nose as the alcohol began to settle.

"Cazador." Campbell tipped an imaginary hat at her, blinking at Cross. "I'm confused- I thought-"

"Mistakes were made." Evelyn echoed from before. With a pat, she indicated to the seat beside herself. "We're friends again, in case you didn't get the memo."

Cross snorted. "Some _really_ good _fuckin'_ friends," he leered at her, ignoring the _whack_ she gave him across the chest. The ghoul turned in his seat, facing the two of them fully. "Surprised you're still alive, Campbell."

"Wouldn't be if it wasn't for your _good friend_ here." Campbell hitched a thumb at Evelyn. "Made it by the skin of our teeth."

Evelyn had reached up and massaged at her left shoulder tenderly. She was awfully sad all of a sudden. "I…I thought we were going to die, honestly." She gave a mournful glance to the blonde mercenary, and he just pat her good shoulder roughly.

"Yeah, well, we didn't. Get to live on and fight for another day."

The bounty hunter was grumbling to himself, placing his packet of cigs on the counter for easy reach. The tone of her voice, coupled with the imagery they had left behind in Serrato; was almost _too easy_ to imagine her death in that clusterfuck of carnage. "Excuse us." The bounty hunter suddenly rose from his seat, grabbing at Evelyn's hand. She nearly dropped her glass back on the counter and gave a confused gawk back at Campbell. "We'll be back," he dismissed over his shoulder.

The night air was chilly, and the smell of fresh rain and clean atmosphere tickled her lungs. "What's wrong?" They strolled down the avenue for a while, until he looked both ways and took an abrupt turn into an empty alleyway. "Hey, what is it?!" She was concerned, and it bled through her voice.

The bounty hunter did _not_ want to think about the potential consequences Serrato could've had. She was finally back in his arms, and she was _alive_ and _well_ and as far as he knew, _happy_ with him. The wasteland was a cold-hearted bitch; it took, and it took, and it took until it had taken everything you didn't even know you had left to give.

There was a small entryway with a door, and he pushed her flush against the frame.

He had been around for almost two hundred _years_ of constant taking; he had finally wizened up and kept things within easy reach, but with a loose enough grip so that he could drop it at a moment's notice.

She whimpered as his hands began to undress her; the cold air pinpricking her bare skin. A billow of white haze blew from her mouth as she gently cried out over his shoulder as he went to work across her exposed body.

He did not think his grip from her would _ever_ give way.

Her hands flew at the buckles of his leather jacket; those pale arms encircling inside the warmth of his body greedily as he flushed their chests together. His pants were shoved down past his thighs, and he supported her with both hands as he lifted her up slightly against the frame. She let off a pleasurably loud sigh into his ear as he entered inside of her and began to fuck her roughly against the side of the building. Her fingers were running down the length of his body and he grabbed her mouth with his own, catching her mind-numbing moans in his throat as they kissed.

When they had both peaked, he set her down and they stood together for a moment, their hefty breathing washing over each other. Evelyn raised her hands up to her face, rubbing at her eyes as the ecstasy still twinged down below. "Is this going to happen _often_?"

She smiled up at him, her fingers now roving inside the recesses of his open jacket. She tapped a fingernail on the butt of his gun. "I'm actually starting to get _sore,_ " she confessed. "Unlike _you_ , I don't do this habitually."

He snorted, his hands pulling up his jeans and shoving his dick back inside. "Good practice."

She chortled. "Until I can't _walk_."

He raised an eyebrow muscle and shrugged, bending over to pick up her clothes. "Then I'll just carry you."

* * *

_"The Eastern Cowboy?"_ Evelyn inquired, poking the merc in the bicep. "I didn't know you had a _title_ and everything." She had heard stories on her earlier travels, but she had not heard them all.

"I don't like to parade it around," Cross groused, his grumpy, old man persona coming to light. The grey, flaking ash from his smoke drifted lazily into the ashtray.

"Tell me more." Evelyn interlaced her fingers and rested her forearms on the bar counter, her head turning to Campbell expectantly. "It's like pulling teeth when I ask him _any_ personal questions."

_I could throw that right back at ya,_ the bounty hunter thought, deciding on keeping the remark to himself. Slowly, he was learning.

"I mean, I heard about the _Calling Card_ case-"

"What was that one?" she immediately insisted.

Campbell gave a slight chuckle at her hungry desire; her blue eyes were shining, and the corners of her mouth were formed in a minute smile. It was something akin to a child waiting for a present to be bestowed upon them, and he subconsciously rubbed at his jaw as she stared at him openly. A low growl at her side tore his eyes from hers, and he immediately dropped his gaze. It was best not to want the woman that was with a man like _that_. Any hint of attraction was like painting a huge target onto himself and asking for an open season.

"A woman with a grudge. Heard she was beautiful as the moon, and deadly as a deathclaw. Any man she slept with, wouldn't live to see the next sunrise. Left a small memento behind on the body, what was it-?"

"A dead flower," Cross broke in, stubbing out the burnt end of his cigarette. "She slept with 'em, poisoned 'em, and then left behind some kind of dead flower. I got the job from a widow whose husband was a victim; only reason she cared enough to put out a bounty was the woman had stolen her husband's watch. She wanted it back." He shrugged.

"Oh? And how exactly did you catch her?" Evelyn asked innocently enough, her fingers tapping along the table rhythmically.

"I didn't _sleep_ with her," he gruffly defended himself. "She always went for the ones that were loose with their caps; I finally caught up to her down in Orleans. The mayor didn't appreciate me bargin' in on their business- even after the fact."

"And you just shot her, just like that?" Evelyn pressed, doubt melding over her features.

"I gave her the decency to put her dress back on first."

"Such a _gentleman,_ " she jabbed. "Tell me another one."

Campbell took a swig of his beer. " _Every_ merc worth their salt knows about _Joe the Boiler_."

Cross poured himself a new glass of scotch. "I have a scar on my left thigh from his damn meat hook." He felt Evelyn's eyes shift downward, and he budged uncomfortably in his seat.

"Hmm. I was going to ask how you-" The rest of the sentence died in her throat from the awkward vibe both men gave off, and she realized the implications of her words. Her face burned red, and she coughed while rubbing her hands along her jeans. "So-uh…who's Joe the Boiler?"

Cross was taking a long drink of his poison; she turned her attention back to Campbell.

"He was a cannibal serial killer. Ripped his victims apart with a meat hook; gave plenty of mercs a run for their money. They either ended up dead or lost their nerve and tailed it back home." Campbell leaned forward. "I heard he had a count of over a hundred people before someone came and put a bullet in between his eyes."

"And that was _you_?" Evelyn laughed at the ghoul, a little meanly. _"Eastern Cowboy,"_ she mocked. "Was that all he gave you? A _little_ scar? No shattered arm?"

"Do I _finally_ get to hear that one?"

Evelyn relayed telepathic thoughts with the ghoul; the smoldering expression he gave her consisted of _keep talking big, pretty lady, and you'll be on crutches tomorrow._

"I guess since we're survival buddies, I'll tell you about it." She then proceeded to tell the mercenary the events of that night, and the damage report the infamous bounty hunter was constituted.

Campbell flexed his hand; a solitary memory coming forth of their first meeting. "Hot _damn_ , Cazador." He met his eyes with his fellow merc. "Surprised _you're_ still alive, Cross."

"Yeah, me too," he grumbled.

* * *

"What did you do before the Great War?"

The question was such a random fastball he had to sit quietly for a few minutes before answering. "I don't like to talk about it," was all he said, continuing on unlacing his boots.

"Why?"

"It's…" He sighed aggravatedly at her seated on the edge of the bed; her shirt was bundled in her hands. "Just _no_." He was suddenly defensive, and he leaned back in his seat to stare at her. The lighting off the wall cast him in a strange shadow, his eyes glinting eerily. "It's one of those things-"

"You don't care to talk about." She waved a hand dismissively at him. "Yeah, yeah." A troubling thought physically washed over her, and she looked off to the side sorrowfully. "I understand…I'm sorry."

He was grumbling to himself in a foreign language, reaching for the other shoe.

"H-have you ever… _loved_ someone?" she asked him, her eyes taking another drink of him.

His fingers paused at unlacing his second boot, and he closed his eyes. Why did she have to ask the fucking _hardest_ questions? "Yes," he said, resuming his task. It shimmied off to the floor, and he busied himself with his socks and pants.

"Do you now?" She was staring at him emotionlessly.

He didn't answer, and instead, pulled his jeans off. He stood up, rubbing the back of his bald head and exhaling loudly, and then he stumbled inside the bathroom. The sound of the shower came on, and he was left to his thoughts for some time. When he was finally finished, she was in bed asleep; her back was to him as she curled around the edge of the frame. He stayed up for a few hours, burning through a copious number of cigarettes before his nerves finally settled and he came to lay beside her. He reached out and pulled her gently into himself, kissing her face softly until she awoke and began to kiss him back. They had sex, and when they finished his fingers stroked through her hair as he watched her fall back into her dreams, and he briefly thought back to when he was a married young man the year the bombs had fallen.


	18. Left Behind

She did not come to retrieve the ferryman until the break of dawn the next day; when she had emerged, he stared at her with the utmost attention, but she did not care to meet his eyes or speak a word to him. Frustratingly, he shadowed her out of the hotel and to the security department, where she _finally_ turned to address him.

"Go wait there." A single digit was pointed to the wall outside of Chief Cooper's door, her voice cracking. She then turned and went inside, and the ferryman was delegated to his spot.

His thick index finger nearly tapped a hole through his bicep, and as the sound of the door _finally_ opened, he immediately hawked in on his employer rushing past him; her eyes averted his hungry gaze. His foot took a step behind her and he heard a whistle. Quickly turning his head to address the sound, he froze in motion as Cooper waved his stained contract at him. "Let's talk."

Charon blinked stupidly for a moment, his head spinning like an owl to watch Evelyn disappear from the building. He snapped back to his new employer. "Please, wait a moment. I shall return." And with that, he quickly caught up to her as she was making her way around the bend outside. He was not honor-bound to her anymore, and he did not have to care for personal boundaries. He grabbed at her shoulder and spun her around. _"Evelyn, what are you_ _ **doing**_ _?"_

"What does it look like, Charon?" she cried up at him, her face ruddy with emotion. "I…I think this is for the _best_."

The words punched loudly in his chest. " _What_? Why am I not coming with you?"

Her face was distraught with conflict, and she rubbed her hand across her mouth. "I…I don't think our partnership can work like this."

There was a vicious snarl, and he angrily flexed his hands into fists. "Did the _**bounty hunter**_ put this up to you?"

_"NO,"_ she snapped, and there was a loud sniff as she wiped away the snot running down her nose. " _Charon_ -you…you almost _died_ back-"

"But I **didn't**." He had her backed up against the side of the building, his arm raised over her. He had completely engulfed her image from the world. "It is my _duty_ to die for you; that is our partnership. _Do not replace me with_ _ **him**_ _._ "

"I'm not **replacing** you!" Evelyn sobbed. "I-I _do_ want you with me, Charon! But…what-you said-we _did_ -"

The ghoul then swathed her in a tight embrace; his hands encircled around the back of her head as her tears melted onto his chest. When they broke apart, she was breathing hotly over him. "I will always want you safe, Evelyn. _**Please**_ _, take me back_."

"I don't know if I _can,_ " her voice broke, and she was trembling under his touch. Those rugged thumbs came to lay against her cheeks, wiping away her tears.

"Will my absence make you happy?" His tone had become completely neutral, and she enclosed her hands around his wrists. "He…he is capable, of protecting you. If being with him is what you wish, I only ask that you be _careful_."

She leaned forward and cried loudly into him, clutching onto him like a small child. "I- _fuck Charon_."

For a few moments they said nothing more, and he just held her gently as she drowned her sorrows into him. With a firm kiss atop of her head, he finally held her away from himself and gave a sad sigh. "I do not wish to see you upset. This is the choice you have made. As long as I am in service here, I will wait for you."

He then spun on his heel and strode away.

Evelyn watched him leave, her heart thumping painfully to the beat of his steps.

He was gone.

* * *

When the merc had awoken, this time _he_ was the one alone in bed. His hand had automatically reached out, and upon finding nothing, he quickly sat upright and spun around. Her things were still tucked away next to his, and he released the breath he had been subconsciously holding. Rubbing his face, he got up and went to the bathroom to piss. He was gathering his clothes when he found the folded note on the table, and he nabbed at it hastily. _You sometimes snore so LOUD I'm surprised the dead are still in their graves. Then again, there is you._ Beneath the lettering was a crude, childish drawing of his face. He snorted.

The door flew open, and he waved the crinkled message at her. "Very funny, what- _hey_." He paused as she braced against the door, visibly upset. His face contorted into alarm. "What the fuck's wrong?"

Her bottom lip quivered uncontrollably, and she burst into tears. " _I-I…I think I just made a huge_ _ **mistake**_ _."_ She inhaled shakily. "IjustletCharongo."

_What?_

"Whoa, whoa…what?" The merc coughed. "Did somethin' happen between you two?"

She took a seat at the small table, her body quivering. "We…we almost _died_ …back in Serrato. I saw him-I _saw_ -" The tears rained down upon her hands as she stared down into her lap, unable to meet his eyes. "I-I… _have decided to leave_ _him behind_. I couldn't-" The words were choked in her throat as she sobbed; she did not care to wipe away her mourning.

She was upset, and so much so that it obviously destroyed her. Did…did she have more than just _attachments_ to her prior bodyguard, to be so hysterical over his termination of service? Cross honestly really fucking hoped not. He wouldn't know what to do with _that_. The bounty hunter stood there awkwardly, unsure of how to console her over the loss. In all selfish honesty, the merc was kind of _glad_ the hulking ghoul was gone; there was only bad blood between the two, and he did not think they would ever come to terms with one another.

"Tradin' one ghoul for another, huh?" As soon as the quip left his mouth, he wished he would have rather shot himself in the foot. The look she gave him was absolutely murderous. "Bad joke. He _was_ a good bodyguard."

" _I just don't want him to_ _ **die**_ _because of me."_

"So, I get the fall instead?" The ashtray frisbeed at his head, narrowly missing him. It tore into the opposite wall with a _**thunk**_. The billowing cloud of ash dusted on his person.

"You weren't there!" The grief was slowly transforming into anger, and it almost made the ghoul thankful. _That_ , was something he could work with. "We've always had close calls before, but, _God_ , I seriously thought I watched him _die_."

The ghoul shook the ashes from himself. "And what if he had?"

She stood from the chair abruptly, causing it to skid and fall over backward. "Why would you fucking say something like that?!" The air almost shimmered from her fury.

"Exactly," the merc drawled out. He looked down at his sooty torso and grumbled; he would need another shower. "You're over thinkin' of the _what if's_ ; it's the fuckin' wasteland, you can die at any time. But he _didn't_ , and neither did you. You're both alive, so leave it at that."

"But-"

A loud sigh. "Look, if you're goin' to be a nervous wreck over it, then just go get him back… or at least quit bitchin' about it."

She sniffed and looked to the floor; her arms defiantly crossed over her chest. It gave him the impression of chastising a child. With a roll of his eyes, he lumbered over to her and cupped her cheek in his palm.

She sneezed from the tobacco ash, gingerly laying a finger on his wrist and pushing it away from her face. " _Ew_ , you're _covered_. Don't touch me."

"Not _my_ damn fault," he grunted, blinking back at the ashtray firmly set in the wall. "Lucky you didn't kill me."

"I didn't miss intentionally."

Those milky hazels became slits. His broad shoulders rolled back in a shrug, and then he enfolded her into his chest, rubbing his face against hers as he smudged the cigarette residue all over her person. She shrieked in disgust, and before she could push him away, he simply lifted her over his shoulder and carried her into the bathroom; the sound of the shower drowned her gripes.

* * *

"So, took the job after all, huh?" A waft of smoke was blown to the side, catching a ride along the frigid breeze. Emerald eyes looked upward at the ferryman, squinting.

Charon just stretched in his spot, feeling his spine crack pleasingly. He did not care to look down at the deputy.

"Clara." A gloved hand was held out, and he grumbled as he gave it a polite shake.

The silence stretched, and he thought that would be the end of it until he heard a cough. "It's Charon, right?" The ferryman did not respond in any way, and Deputy Jenkins just rolled her eyes and began her patrol. "Whatever."

It had been six hours. _Six hours_ , since Evelyn had disappeared from his life. He had watched them make their way from the city, the bounty hunter always too close against her for his liking…but that was not his concern, anymore. He was now in service to Chief Cooper; he was enrolled into the CFP as an invaluable member. A highly experienced combat and weapon specialist, along with the perk of never needing sleep, Charon was the perfect candidate as a sentry and militia guard. Charon did not care for his position, although the hours of constant solitude with the freedom of roving the perimeter outside suited him just fine. But that did not matter, in the long run. He knew she would be back for him, however long it took for her to return.

She _had_ to come back for him… _didn't_ she?

* * *

The duo had made slow, steady progress in their journey. The weather was beginning to turn nasty; gray, thundering storm clouds rolled through the later day, forcing them to seek shelter from the pelting cold rain. Both were completely drenched by the time they sought refuge inside a decrepit gas station. There was no electricity, but an oil lamp and a musty bedroll had been left behind.

Cross went to work and sliced the sleeping bag into strips, dousing the paper-thin sheets with some lamp oil to catch a flame. His striker and knife blew sparks in the darkness of the building, a small fire coming to light. Some more dried material was added, and soon the pair was drowning in the warm light. The smoke wafted strategically through a slat in the side of the wall they had settled beside.

Evelyn shivered violently, baring to her underwear and laying out her clothes. She unpacked her bedroll, verbally disappointed in its soaked condition along with the majority of their things. Carefully, she laid everything out to dry, and finally sat down and hugged herself.

"Cold?" Cross joked. He had stripped his jacket, opting to keep his lower half clothed. "Come here."

She did not need convincing. She settled into his lap and relished his hot torso flush against her back. His arms came down to wrap around her, and she nestled into him greedily. "All we need is a drink."

He barked out a laugh, the raspy chortle bouncing off the walls. "I've got some scotch in my bag if you want some."

"I said a _drink_ , not jet fuel," she snarked, and her thoughts instantly drifted to a very different set of arms that had wrapped around her previously. Her lips turned down into a frown, and the bounty hunter took notice.

"Stop it," he ordered, as though all of her buried emotion for the ferryman would simply vanish at his command. "What's done is done."

She released a breathy gasp, and she quickly covered her face with both hands to try and hide away her grief. "I'm so _stupid_."

Cross grunted. "No…you're not."

She dropped her caging fingers away from her eyes and stared at him. The bounty hunter's milky orbs were nothing but passive. She tilted her chin back and he leaned down to kiss her. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm already here, aren't I?" he rasped, shifting in his place. "Are you warm enough?"

She gently turned and rested her head against him, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around his. "Yes. Shut up. G'night."

He sat his silent vigil as the passing storm raged on; the raindrops hit against the corrugated metal roof so violently it drowned out all other sound. When the ghoul felt her breathing finally slow, he rested his chin atop her head and let her sleep.

* * *

"I don't know…it _looks_ pretty clear-what do you thi-" Evelyn tilted her head to the side to catch a glimpse of the ferryman, and her expression contorted into embarrassed denial.

The bounty hunter groaned. "Will ya _quit_ that?" He shook his shoulders as though warding off evil. "Damn, you keep lookin' around so much I _expect_ him to be there."

"Sorry," she mumbled, focusing her attention back through the binoculars.

It made her uneasy not having the constant presence of Charon around, anymore, to watch her back. She wasn't completely distressed, though, Cross was good at what he did. Pretty _damn_ good.

"We'll skirt around. It'll be another ten miles, but I don't feel like clearin' raiders out today."

"Raiders?" She took another once over of the abandoned town; a tumbleweed barreled through. "I don't see anyone."

His bony index finger pushed against the side of the binoculars, half a mile from the town, evidence to his claim. Pieces of assorted human bones were haphazardly discarded into a piling pyramid. The crows scuttled in a fight amongst each other over a femur.

Evelyn crinkled her nose, and she handed the merc back his binoculars. "Oh."

"How _did_ you make it through life this far?" Cross stowed away the gear in his bag, his question half-serious.

She pursed her lips angrily, visibly offended. A hand was waved. "Lead on."

The merc snapped his lighter shut with a _shsk_ , taking a puff of his habit. She had her arms crossed and was pointedly not meeting his gaze, so he cupped a palm and slapped her ass as he walked past. She jumped at the sudden contact and squeaked, whirling on him angrily as he was already five steps ahead.

He removed his cigarette and gave a long exhale. "C'mon- oh, don't give me _that_ look, you seemed to enjoy it the other night." He grinned over his shoulder at her as she bloomed crimson.

They were giving the town a wide berth, bypassing underneath the cavernous remains of a capsized airliner. Evelyn gaped at the size of the machinery, her fingers lightly running along its rusted-out frame. The bounty hunter's hand pushed against her chest roughly and she instantly careened backward; the tell-tale sound of a landmine gave a sharp _shrill_ in the air. Evelyn's eyes widened as the merc went to step off the explosive, and then the beeping paused. His foot was still firmly in place.

**_"Shit."_** Cross took a large inhale, and he carefully turned his head. "You need to _go_."

She stood there dumbly; her expression alarmed. " _Go_? Can you-"

"This thing can go off at any time," he snarled, looking down at his feet. The bright indicator light mocked him. "I'm goin' to _try_ and disarm it; it's still live, so if I fuck up- _boom_."

"But-"

"Holy fuckin' _hell_ , Evelyn. I ain't goin' to get you blown up with me, ge-" He suddenly reached inside his jacket for his weapon; the safety clicked back and the barrel pointed above him. He growled threateningly.

A maniacal face was leering down from the upper decks of the airliner; the glint from the barrel of a rifle gleaming in the sun. "Oh, oh! New fish!" Dark eyes flitted over every inch of Evelyn's body, and the jet-addled junkie sniffed loudly. "Pretty fishy." He waved at her. "Come, come! Or I shoot, shoot!" His eyes were constantly roving, but his hands were rock steady.

Evelyn looked back to the merc; his eyes never left his target.

_"Don't die,"_ she whispered, her voice slightly cracking. With deliberate movements, she sidestepped around him and began her ascension up the rickety stairs that led to the upper decks.

The bounty hunter cursed himself for not having a clear shot; he clicked the safety back on and went to work with the imminent death laying at his feet.

The fiend was hawking her careful steps with overly rapt attention. The gun was aimed point-blank at her chest, and he twitched his foot constantly. Evelyn spied his make-shift campsite in the far corner; he was scavenging whatever wastelanders the raiders had missed. She did not like the look in his black eyes.

There were some feet between them, and he lifted the rifle to her face. "Stop, stop." He wiggled the barrel of the gun. "There, there. Take it off. All of it."

**What the hell.** Evelyn released a shaky breath, reaching for her bag and setting it down. Slowly, and methodically, she began to strip to her underwear; the pile of clothing dropped beside her.

_"All of it. Pretty fishy"_

The imagery of rape blew into her mind, and she clenched her jaw tightly as she unclasped her bra and let her lingerie fall to her ankles. Gingerly, she stepped out of them and crossed her arms over her breasts. If the little creep did decide to take that route, he would be in for a _painful_ surprise.

He gave a dopey grin, just staring at her naked flesh with his abyss for eyes and rows of missing teeth. Evelyn averted her gaze, attempting to make herself seem as small as possible until he waved at her again with the gun.

"Come, come."

She hesitated, until he let a shot loose to the side. Smoke curled from the end of the barrel as he waved at her again.

_"Come."_

Evelyn proceeded, almost sluggishly, and then the sweltering barrel was flush against the underside of her left breast and she winced from the burn. A grimy hand fondled her right boob, and she choked back a scream as he squeezed her roughly. A _click_ was heard behind her, and she felt hot tears roll down her cheeks in relief.

"Oh? You smart fish."

Cross was _fuming_. The little creep was not only crazy, he was _smart_. The landmine was a dud, and to anyone who didn't keep their cool or have the knowledge were easy prey for the conniving fiend as he toyed with them from his lookout. The ghoul had been duped, and now Evelyn was paying the price for it. The barrel was keeping constant contact against her skin as it came to dig into the underside of her jaw, and she bit back a sob. His finger was firm against the trigger; any wrong move and her head would be popped off.

The bounty hunter took cool, collected breaths. Evelyn was visibly trembling, and he had to mentally calm himself from going into a blind-inducing rage. The little fucker was **dead**.

The junkie leered from behind his human shield. "This my fishy."

"If you kill her, you're still _**dead,**_ " Cross threatened menacingly. "I'll trade you."

That nuzzle was dug farther, forcing Evelyn to tilt her chin up. "Oh? What fishy have?"

With the barrel of his gun still trained on its sights, the merc slowly crouched down to her bag and unzipped a pocket, reaching inside for the familiar clattering of pills. He presented a gracious amount of buffout, and the junkie began to breathe loudly through his nose.

_"Mine,"_ he hissed, his tapping foot going berserk. **"Trade."**

"Okay." The merc slowly stood. "Let her come back to me."

The weight of the gun was freed from her skin, and Evelyn took careful steps backwards until she felt the merc's hand travel around her waist, and he gently pushed her behind himself. The gun was now zeroed in on him.

"I lied," he said simply, and two shots rang out.

The fiend dropped; a bullet clean between the eyes.

The bounty hunter grunted in pain; his chest was bleeding profusely.

"Cross!" Evelyn caught the merc as he stumbled into her, and she lowered him to lie flat on the floor. Automatically going into autopilot, her hands flew at his jacket and she ripped it open, ignoring the flying buckles and snapped latches. "Hold still."

Turning to the side, she dove into her first aid satchel and procured tweezers and a stimpak. The bullet was pried out, and she wiped away at the fountain of blood as she quickly inoculated him. The wound began to close, and they sat there breathing heavily.

The merc turned his head to look at her. She was completely naked, and her forearms were painted in the crimson of his blood. She wiped away at a loose strand of hair across her forehead, baptizing herself in the name of his sins with a red streak across her skin. He laughed loudly and winced at the sting it caused.

Her eyes snapped to his face. "What the fuck is so funny?"

"If I had a naked woman patch me up every time I got shot, I would _gladly_ take every bullet."

She huffed at him annoyingly, leaving him to his devices as she dug out a water bottle and unscrewed the cap. He slowly sat upright as she proceeded to wash away his blood from her skin.

"You missed a spot," he said, licking his thumb and reaching over at her forehead.

She shrunk back away from him. "Ew, I don't want your spit on my face."

He gave her a befuddled look. "My _spit_? Just last night you let me-"

She blushed madly, wiping at her forehead with a dab of water. " _Yeah_ , well, _that_ doesn't wash off so easily." She then thrust the remainder of her bottle at him. "Let's hurry up and go."

Her clothes flew on in a hurry, and she finished just as the merc wiped away the remainder of gore from his bare torso. His fingers went to close the front flaps of his jacket, and then he sighed in mild irritation. "Well. Guess I like a breeze."

They then left the dead fiend to rot, not even bothering to scavenge for any loot.


	19. Window to the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quote is Jeremiah 31:3.

_**Project Purity…that's what Dad called it. He said it's supposed to provide clean water for the wasteland! Can you even imagine that? I…I can't believe he gave that up for me, ya know…anyways, I guess I should get back to him, he said he needed help with-** _

_Grind grind grind-_ his teeth grated back and forth like a brahmin on cud.

… _ **he-he's gone, Charon-I…I need some time, to myself…I'll be back-**_

_Tap tap tap-_ his index finger punched rhythmically into the armored padding of his riot gear on his bicep.

_**So, Charon, huh? Like the Ferryman…do you even know your**_ **own** _ **name? 'There Charon stands, who rules the dreary coast-' No?**_ **Well** _ **, I guess I'll just have to enlighten you on our journey…oh, I'm sorry, I'm being rude-I'm Evelyn.** _

The grinding stopped altogether with his metronome patter.

_**Although, I must say, you live quite well to your description- 'His eyes, like hollow furnaces on fire' – let us journey, my Ferryman, through our river of Styx! Sorry, I don't have a coin for you…will this Nuka Cola do instead?** _

_What the fuck._ Charon sighed aggravatedly and closed his eyes, willing the mental image of their first encounter from his mind. She was the wind that had left his sails; he was stuck sitting upon the helm of his boat, keeping a keen eye on the horizon for land. She wasn't _dead_ -or, she could be, for all he knew. That thought only crawled under his skin with cold, pincer-like steps. _No._ Evelyn wasn't _completely_ defenseless, she had the bounty hunter- _he_ was capable, as much as Charon hated to admit his skill. But, _**what if**_ -

"Hey, Charon-" The ferryman turned to catch Espinoza waving to him. "Chief wants a word, big guy."

_**C'mon, big guy- don't give me that face, it's fun! Okay, so skipping rocks maybe isn't the most** _ **stellar** _**thing to do- here, you try! …what the fuck, first time and seven skips?! Okay, you know what, this isn't** _ **that** _**fun…** _

He left his post as Espinoza temporarily relieved him; his footsteps clambered loudly through the racket of the security station. As was custom, almost every head turned to stare; only when he had passed, did the whispers begin to drift forth. He closed the door to Chief Cooper's office behind him.

"Take a seat-" The head of security affairs blinked as the ghoul immediately sat down, "-oh, _right._ " He cleared his throat loudly, bristling through his mustache. "I want you on the manifest with Deputy Jenkins back up to Serrato- I would be shooting myself in the foot if I didn't have you go back to lead the team. Campbell said he was also willing to attend. Would you be good with that?"

Charon just gave a single nod.

_"Alrighty then."_ Cooper scratched at his forehead under the brim of his hat. "Oh, before you go, she left this for you. Asked if I would wait till she was gone, so, here." A folded letter was held over the desk, and the ghoul took it in his hands, blinking dumbly.

On the front was a poorly scribbled drawing of a boat along a river; a man holding an oar at the helm.

* * *

"Hey? You okay?"

Evelyn groaned aloud, massaging at her scalp with her fingertips. "For the _millionth_ _time,_ _ **yes**_ _._ " Her hair was undone and wildly flailing in the wind; she caught all the strands together and wrapped it into a messy ponytail high atop her head. "…I'll be fine."

Cross narrowed his eyes at her, following in her footsteps a few feet back. "Do you want to talk?"

_"No."_

He grumbled irately, his guilt from his failure at protecting her and her mild cold shoulder left him vexingly grumpy. It had been like this for hours now, and they still had another few to go until the sun would begin to go down. As much as he wanted to clear up his own feelings on the matter, he dared not bring up the topic lest he say something stupid.

They continued, strolling along through a suburban neighborhood, the houses hollowed and some barely standing. He indicated with his chin to a decent shelter; the rain was beginning to fall again. They took refuge inside the living room of a house; the door was held closed with a chair pushed under the knob. There was a fireplace, and the ghoul lifted an arm inside to open the damper as Evelyn watched him curiously.

"What are you doing?"

"Tryin' to get this _damn_ thing open- _ugh_ , there we go." He clapped the soot from his hands, only smudging it further. "C'mere, let's see how hard it is to wash _this_ off." He clambered over to her with his blackened palms, and she giggled and parkoured around the ruined couch from his reach.

" _Ew!_ No, stop!" She twirled away from him. "I said _no_! Cross, I mean it!"

The ghoul froze for a moment, and Evelyn breathily laughed. When he remained in his spot, she raised an eyebrow, and then it quickly turned into concern. "Hey, what's wrong?"

His eyes looked right through her until he grunted; he turned around and wiped his hands on his jeans. "Nothin'…just a ghost, is all."

Evelyn was good at deducing, and she looked around the house with a sad smile. "Did…did you use to live in a house like this?" she asked softly.

The ghoul avoided her question. "I'm goin' to start a fire."

* * *

The rain gave a gentle _thrum_ across the roof. Evelyn was snuggled deep inside her sleeping bag, watching the merc stitch at the front end of his leather jacket. There was a cigarette hanging precariously from the corner of his mouth; his bare, muscled chest contracted with every breath he took.

His shadowed eyes flitted from his work to catch her stare. "You good?"

"When do you want me to take watch?"

The ghoul snorted. "Don't worry about it. I'm a light sleeper, as it is."

Evelyn mimicked his snort. "Not with that snoring, you're not."

His eyes flew to the ceiling as he racked his brain for a witty reply, but he had nothing in his arsenal, and he simply shrugged his shoulders. She soon fell asleep, and the night grew on. The rain had eventually stopped, and the ghoul had finished with his repairs. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he leaned back in his seat and finished his smoke, looking down the dark hallway leading to the bedrooms that reminded him too much of his own. Angrily, he stubbed out the cig against the table and fed some fuel to the fire.

With his own bedding set beside her, he laid himself down and perched up on one elbow, his rough fingers gently removing the tawny hair from her face. There were no lines of worry or anger in her sleeping expression, and she appeared much younger than she was. He accidentally brushed against her nose, tickling her into a sneeze.

She blinked disconcertedly at him, itching at the tip with her hand. _"What?"_

He held up his palms in surrender. "Sorry."

Her eyes then settled, glinting under the firelight. She opened her sleeping roll, edging her body flush against him. With her head nuzzled into the recess of his shoulder, she gave a tired exhale through her nose and was fast asleep. The bounty hunter pulled her bedding over them, and he listened to her breathing in symphony with the fire crackling away.

* * *

_"…may God help us all."_

_We're going to die…aren't we?_

Cross burst upright, the faint outline of the living room in the morning dusk disorienting him. Rapidly blinking away the sleep from his eyes, his body subconsciously turned to reach for the bottle of booze he kept at his bedside. His fingers met with empty air and he sniffed loudly, opening one eye fully. There was no bottle, because he went to bed sober that night. He went to bed sober, because he had Evelyn to fulfill his need instead- _which_ -

For the second time, she was gone.

"Evelyn," he ground out, rising from their makeshift bedding groggily.

"You are the heaviest light sleeper I've _ever_ met."

He almost sighed in relief. With a _pop_ of his knees, he stood upright fully, bare naked and scratching at his head. Evelyn was sitting at the table, fully dressed and busily braiding her hair down the side, an empty bag of sugar bombs at her elbow. "Who's Amelia?"

The ghoul was reaching for his pants but ended up stumbling into a chair, knocking his shin against the frame.

"Ow, _fuck,_ " he hissed, groaning as he turned his back to her. His hands flexed into fists, and he relaxed them to nab at his clothing. He ignored the question.

There was a _screech_ as her chair skidded across the floor, and she was suddenly shouldering her pack onto her shoulders. The ghoul barely had time to buckle into his reinforced jeans as she reached for the door handle.

"Whoa, wait- _where the hell are you goin'_?" his atrophied vocals rumbled as he encroached on her.

"I thought we were just ignoring each other, so _here I go_."

"What is it that you _fuckin'_ want?" The rasping anger that was directed at her made her stiffen. "I thought you wanted to get to Braxton, not ask every _goddamn_ question there is to my life."

"And _I_ thought you wanted to keep me as far away from Braxton as possible," she snapped back. "And yet, here we are."

Those faded eyes were lethal now, burning a hole through her. "I still _do_."

"Well you're doing the absolute _worst_ fucking job of it." Her hands cut through the air at him.

He didn't reply, just furiously gnashed his teeth together and rubbed at his forehead with the heel of his palm.

_"Whatever,"_ Evelyn relented, her hand making contact with the cold doorknob as his fist slammed against the doorframe.

" **Don't,"** his garbled voice snarled in warning. "Don't you fuckin' leave."

Evelyn didn't know whether to laugh or cry. _"Or **what**?" _His hand went to grab at her waist, but she viciously smacked it away. "Don't you _dare,_ " she threatened. "Who's Amelia?"

He exhaled sharply through his nose, leaning his head away from her. He didn't respond to her question.

"Just fucking _tell me!_ " she nearly cried up at him.

For the first time, Cross gave her a look of complete devastation, his breath shuddering as his shoulders sagged. It looked as though he was about to break down, but as quickly as the emotion came it was gone, replaced with a careful mask of visible ire.

"Just…just don't leave, again." His words betrayed his face; his tone was extremely desolate and defeated. "That's all I'm askin'."

His moment of complete vulnerability subdued any anger she was feeling. With both hands, she gently cupped them around his face and he closed his eyes against her touch, his fingers mooring around her wrists. He kissed the inside of both her palms.

"Don't leave me, and I won't leave you," she promised him, and he sighed through his nostrils and slowly nodded in agreement. _"I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness."_

He then went to work in undressing her, and they did not leave until later that afternoon.

* * *

"Holy shit." Deputy Clara Jenkins surveyed the initial scene of Serrato, crossing her arms and giving a glance to Charon and Campbell. "You guys made one _hell_ of a mess."

"Was a lot messier, at the time," Campbell relayed, kicking a rock across the town square; the clambering stone gave off a lonely echo.

A sentinel was nudging at the decapitated head of the super mutant; a whistle let loose from his lips. "Damn, he was _big_. Who had the honors here?"

Campbell just hitched a thumb at the ghoul.

They made their rounds. Charon was taking the charge, slowly clearing every building with his small team; together, they made it to the cafeteria.

"Can't say I wanted to be back here so soon." Campbell shook his head, rifling through the containers for anything salvageable.

"You do that too?" Clara indicated with her chin to the mutant impaled to the wall, and Charon only shook his head.

" _That_ , was courtesy of Cazador- the woman that came with us." Campbell then turned to the sentinel that was peering inside of his busted cage. "That was her too."

"Jesus," the man replied, his fingers stroking over the warped bars. He then looked over his shoulder back to his team. "She a damn mutant or something?"

Campbell gave a lazy shrug of his shoulders; Charon just crossed his arms and stared down at his feet, a crack in the tile from where she had hit her head.

The town was clear.

"Okay, Roy and Alex- you two will head back to Capers, give the report to Chief; go ahead and put in the request for the cleanup crew. Jones, Charon, Campbell, and I will try and organize whatever is left into working order and begin burying the bodies. Don't want the damn wildlife moving in and making our job any harder." Clara directed her hand in the air along with her orders, and they set into motion.

They were designated their quadrants, and Charon made his way to begin at the pass.

_**Ch-let go you fuck-Charon! No, CH-**_

The wind trickled through, and the scent of hot dirt and decay assailed his senses. He snorted, not realizing his feet had stopped. He was standing in the middle of their ambush site, and he could clearly see her face vividly staring up at him. The ghoul grumbled nonsense and rubbed his eyes.

**I…I thought you died, Charon.**

She was getting dragged through the dirt; he _tried_ to reach her, his body was breaking, there were so _many_ \- The Pip-Boy; he bent down, gently picking it up and cradling it in his large hands. She was screaming, she was _crying_ , but it wasn't for her-it was for _him_ -

**It's all I can see.**

_Crash!_ The remains of the Pip-Boy went careening into the cliffside wall; the explosive display of circuitry and glass rained down upon the sand. The ferryman's hands went to his head, this wasn't how it was supposed to be- he had kept her safe for _months_ , and now she's gone, just like-

"You good, Charon?"

He turned, the deputy made her way up the slope towards him; her eyes were downcast and trying to read the tracks at his feet. She squinted her eyes from the glare of the sun and looked to the broken wrist-computer he had so viciously disposed of. "Did it bite you or something?" she joked, the toe of her foot drawing a line in the sand. She then clicked her tongue and settled her green eyes on him. "You didn't have to come back here, you know."

"I am fine," he said flatly. He then strode past her, not caring to look over his shoulder. "This area is clear."

* * *

"It's official. I need a break." Evelyn carelessly threw her pack from her stiff shoulders, breathing in copious amounts of air. Her knees were shaking, and she sat down against the train tracks that they had been perusing along, using her bag as an improvised pillow. The slung rifle was digging into her back, and she shifted it to alleviate the annoyance.

Cross looked back down the way they had come, and then upwards to the late afternoon sky. "We've only been at it for a few hours; still got a ways to go if you want to sleep in a real bed tonight."

She waved a hand tiredly at him. "I need a break from _that_ too. I'm so sore, if I walk another step, I'm going to split in half."

He grinned down at her; a sizeable rock was chucked in his proximity. "Whoa, I _almost_ felt the wind from that one."

She flipped him the bird, then cradled her arm over her eyes, and was soon asleep. Her jaw went slightly slack, and after an hour had passed, the merc crouched down and reached a hand underneath her chin. He closed her mouth shut with a _click_ , and she reactively grabbed at his forearm forcefully.

"Easy, now, **whoa** ," the merc spoke slowly and loudly, his fingers still curled underneath her. Almost immediately, her vice-grip loosened. Well, he wasn't going to do _that_ again. When she lowered her arm and blinked at him, he stood and offered her a hand. "Let's keep movin'."

* * *

They were walking along the bank of a riverside, his hands in his pockets with a cigarette between his lips. Sometimes Evelyn would pause and bend over to physically inspect a smooth stone, judging its value in skipping over the water. She made five consecutive skips, and he gave a low grunt. "Your aim is good with _somethin',_ " he observed.

" _Shut up,"_ she laughed, the wide smile and crinkle of her eyes making his heart pound painfully.

The sun dipped into the early evening, their trailblazing bringing them to an established caravan outpost that took residence in an old town whose name had long been forgotten. The whirring sound of generators filled the air as they made their steps past patrolling security; the smell of gunpowder and fuel burned their noses. Dogs chained to their handlers frothed at the mouth as they passed, giving ample warning of their ferocious intentions.

"Friendly place," Evelyn commented. They were cleared to enter past the corrugated, metal gate, and they proceeded onto the main street of town.

"It's a trader's hub; raiders tend to think they're easy pickin's," he informed her. "And they're too stupid to quit tryin'."

"I know someone who's too stupid to quit trying." She poked his bicep.

"Ya know, I'm just goin' to stop talkin'. Keep usin' my own damn words against me." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, causing her to stumble as he pulled her into him. "Not safe physically _or_ verbally."

"It's not my fault you're fucking dumb," Evelyn responded matter-of-factly, squirming out from under his hold.

He chaperoned her around the town, and they purchased a room from the acclaimed _Carly's Lounge_ ; the joint was the all-in-one for boarding, drinking, and nightly company. The woman behind the counter was heavy-set, her square jaw working angrily as she handed over their key.

"Thanks, Carly," Cross muttered, almost shamefully.

Evelyn blinked stupidly at the strange interaction between the two.

Carly narrowed her eyes, those dark irises evolving into slits. "This pretty thing isn't with _you_ , I hope?"

Evelyn interjected; her curiosity piqued. "Is there something wrong?" she innocently asked.

Cross inwardly groaned. Evelyn was correct; he was fucking dumb. They were perhaps better off camping in the woods. "Why does everyone keep remindin' me of shit from years ago?"

Carly laughed humorously. "You mean only a couple months ago? The caps you gave me barely covered replacing the frame on that bed."

_Shit_. His track of time was crumbling, it _was_ only weeks ago. "Do I still owe ya? I'll pay for it."

"You sure as hell _will_ , Cross." Carly wiped her hands together aggressively, and she jabbed a finger at Evelyn. "And you'll get your damn, filthy hands off this young woman. You dirty _geezer_."

His hand didn't remove itself off her waist, and he felt her turn to look up at him. "Why is it every town we come to _someone_ has something to say about you?" Evelyn asked him sweetly. He tensed at the underlying threat in her tone.

"Because he's a damn sleazeball, that's why." Carly nodded her head affirmatively, crossing her massive arms over her large bosom. "Go on, tell her what you _left me with_ \- and _who_ \- I should add."

She didn't wait for him to respond and began to retell the story herself. "This damn _ghoul_ bought two of my girls, paid for a room for two nights. I thought to myself, well, Cross is usually a good customer. Always pays, no issues- _but those two days_ , you nearly cost me an _entire_ _week_ of income! They were so damn loud- I considered having Bob and the Boys come and boot you three to high hell! And the damage, oh _Lord_ -"

Evelyn had now forcibly removed his hand from around her side; her eyes were sparkling with frustration and she exhaled sharply through her nose. "May I have another room, please?"

_**UGH**_. The ghoul sighed irritably. _I am_ _ **not**_ _goin' to go through this shit again_.

"I'll give you the money, Carly." He left the woman as she continued to seethe down memory lane, cautiously directing Evelyn off to the side and up the stairs. She was ignoring him coldly, her hands working into tight fists and then rubbing irately against her thighs. "I shouldn't have to say that this was all _before_ I met you."

"I-I just…" She huffed, clearly riled. She spun around at him and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I _know_ that, I do. But… _fuck_ , it still…hurts," she added honestly. "I feel like I'm just going to be another page in your fucking long book of women."

"Whoa now- hey." His palms cupped her face gently, holding her eyes to his. "I _told_ you, I need you. I really do; you're the only woman I want, and I'm _not_ makin' that fuckin' mistake again. I swear."

She let out a breath of hot air, nodding a little sadly. "But _really_? _Two women at_ _ **once**_?" She bit her lip. "I guess you have good stamina."

He chuckled, relieved at her humor. Pulling her into his chest, he gave her a tight hug and kissed her forehead. "C'mon, I can show you a bit of that stamina."

She barked a laugh and they continued down the hallway. "Ew, _no_. I _never_ want to hear you say something like that in that context _ever_ again. Makes you sound like a lecherous old man….oh, wait."

He grumbled at her snide jab, opening their door and letting her step inside first.


	20. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As always, blipbleep, you *raise me up* (That was sung in Josh Groban's voice y'all.)

“Man, if I wasn’t getting good pay for this-” Campbell huffed, thrusting the spade of the shovel into the dirt and tossing it over his shoulder.

Charon ignored his gripes; his own trowel going to work.

The two were reassigned to digging the graves; Charon lanced his shovel into an upright position and snagged the water bottle at his side.

“I know it ain’t my business-” Campbell began, “-but weren’t you two partners or something? I mean, I know Cross-” His eyes had shifted over and the rest of the sentence died in his throat; the ferryman’s expression was full of his ire. “Never mind.”

They continued to dig, and time stretched on. A grave was soon dug, and a body was placed inside. A grave was dug, a body was placed. A grave was dug, a body was placed.

The sun was low, the orange and purple streaks of sunset water-coloring across the sky.

“Doing a good job, keep at it.” Deputy Clara had her hands behind her back, surveying the scene. “Jones and I will rotate out with you guys in the next hour.” Her gaze held Charon’s for a few moments, and then she pivoted to stride away.

“At this rate, I’m just going to dig my own,” Campbell quipped.

Charon gripped the handle of his shovel, thrusting it forcefully into the dirt.

* * *

The bounty hunter was busy cleaning his armory at the table, closing one eye to peer through the barrel of the magnum; his hands were stained with gun oil.

Evelyn gave a stretch before lifting herself from the warm bathwater, her time of reprieve finally concluded. Her thoughts were beginning to wander, and a certain red ghoul was clouding her mind. It was entirely too painful to think of their final moments, and she did not want Cross to see her upset.

The sound of water sloshing made his head turn. She was clasping her bra behind her, tossing her long, wet hair over one shoulder as she stepped into her underwear. He couldn’t help but stare; he did not think his eyes would ever tire of her. “I’m going to find the bar,” she said over her shoulder.

“Am I not invited?”

She pointed at his instrumental array of death spread across the table. “Are you not busy? I didn’t want to be _rude_. You can catch up.” She plopped into the chair across from him, her fingers busily lacing up her boots. “If you’re lucky, I’ll save you a seat.” She blew him a wink and a kiss, closing the door behind her before he could respond.

She leisurely made her way downstairs into the lounge and instantly felt a hand grope her lower backside as she was busy conversing with the bartender for drinks. She whirled around, a man about Cross’s height stared down at her with a suggestive wink and a white grin.

He was handsome, running a hand through his dark hair. “You have to be the cutest dang thing I’ve seen. What’s your name, darlin’?”

She stared at him blankly. “Evelyn,” she answered, extending her hand out.

The stranger reached out to grasp hers, but she swiftly seized the backside of his wrist and twisted his arm around. The man gasped in surprise as he was suddenly laid out on the floor, the pressure she exerted on his body overwhelming. The lounge immediately grew quiet at the unexpected altercation, and the man yelped as she continued to twist his arm back in an unnatural fashion. It was a simple takedown move Charon had taught her a long time ago; it was only due to her unnatural strength that she was able to perform the feat.

“Don’t you _ever_ touch me, _ever_ again,” she spat at him warningly. She then placed her foot on top of his shoulder blade, pushing her weight down while lifting his arm up. The strain of his ligaments in their socket made him cry out in considerable pain. “Or next time I’ll rip your fucking arm off,” she growled, releasing him roughly.

The man gasped for air and scuttled away from her across the floor, turning around on his backside to gawk at her in confused fear. He did not understand how someone of her stature was capable of such force.

“You heard the woman. No wandering hands.” The bartender gave a loud snort as he snuffed snot up his head, and the spell was broken. The din of the bar continued, and everyone went about their business as usual.

* * *

A soft knock at the door echoed in the room.

The bounty hunter had just finished reassembling his pieces together, the smell of gunpowder stifling. Wiping his hands on a stained rag, he opened the door with a frown.

_“Cross!”_ The woman jumped at him, and the doorframe fell away as she tightly embraced him. His towel fell at their feet as she ran her hands over his chest and leaned forward to kiss him.

He immediately grabbed at her shoulders firmly, holding her as far away from himself as the length of his arms would allow. “Whoa whoa- Irene, _no_.”

Irene gave a pouty lip bite, her dark eyes twinkling up at him. She smelled of alcohol, her fingers were roaming over his chest desperately. “You really know how to tug at a girl’s heart, you know that?” Her voice had not yet turned raspy as most ghouls eventually do; she still had that sweet tune a man didn’t mind listening to.

_This is not good._ “ _Go home_.” He turned her around, her patchy red hair twirling.

She stomped her foot and dug her heels into the floor. “What the _fuck_ is this? I heard you be in town, and you haven’t swung by to get me a drink?” She crossed her arms indignantly over her chest. “You takin’ up with _Candy_ tonight?”

An exasperated exhale made his thoughts known. “I’m not lookin’ for any company.” Cross gripped both sides of her arms, simply picking her up off the floor and setting her back down inside the hallway. He then reached back inside and shut the door behind himself, leaving her as he made his way downstairs.

“You-you can’t just _leave_ -”

He spun around. She was tailing directly behind him, her face beseeching. In the past, it would have been enough.

“Irene, I’m with another woman-and no _not_ Candy, don’t give me that face-so let’s leave it at that,” he growled, his large strides shadowed by her smaller ones.

“Another _woman?!_ Who-”

They both entered the smoky, dim-lit lounge together.

“ _Oh_ , I get it, you’re just so fucking stupid you can’t even comprehend your own actions. I’m actually surprised you can _breathe_ without consciously thinking about it, but then again, it would be rude of me to assume.”

He turned a corner, and there she was: his living, breathing **nuke** of a woman. A man was holding his hands up defensively before his chest; a frightened smile attempted at placating her sharp tongue.

“Darlin’, I said I was _sorry_! Holy hell- I didn’t mean to _offend_.” His eyes widened as she took a step towards him threateningly.

“Call me **_darlin’_** one more fucking time and it’ll be that fucking spine I rip out!” she hissed, her eyes absolutely scathing.

The man licked his lips nervously as his brain wracked for something to say until a cough redirected their attention to the side.

“Don’t worry; she’s like this with everyone.” Cross spit to the side, pointing a bony index fingertip to the man’s forehead. “ _I_ tend to shoot first and make threats later,” he growled warningly, coming beside her.

“You couldn’t wait all of twenty minutes for me?” the ghoul grumped at her. Evelyn huffed, visibly aggravated.

The stranger gave a tiny tilt of his head to the side in bewilderment. “Is…is this **_ghoul_** _with_ _you_?” He automatically backed up a step when she flared up again. “I-I mean, it’s just…surprising, is all. I ain’t gotten nothing against your kind, swear by it.”

_“_ Heh _, your kind,”_ Cross muttered disdainfully. “Watch it, _kid_. I _will_ shoot you.”

“Is this the _woman_ you’re talkin’ ‘bout?” Cross outwardly groaned as Irene butted into their conversation from the side, and she smacked his arm. “I _know_ you ain’t with no smoothskin, honey. Candy put you up to this?”

Evelyn had suddenly turned her full fury on the merc, the wave washing up and crashing over him. “I was _trying_ to have a drink in peace.” She turned back to her prior offender. “So, what the fuck are you still standing here for?”

“I was just-”

The ghoul prostitute was going on to the side, saying some colorful words that lent to some explicit imagery; Evelyn growled and removed the bounty hunter’s hand from creeping around her waist.

_“Fuck off,” s_ he furiously warned, striding to the bar. “You-” she snapped her fingers at the man frozen in his spot, “-buy me a drink, and I’ll forgive you.” She glowered at the bounty hunter. “Get your shit together. I **_mean_** it.”

The merc blew out a breath, rubbing the back of his head as she stormed away with a petrified man in tow behind her.

“She’s a real _treat_ ,” Irene commented offhand, reaching inside Cross’s jacket for his carton of cigarettes. The ghoul grumbled irritably at her as she began to wound her hand around for his lighter. “Client?”

“No.”

A cigarette was lit, and she handed him back his things. “So, you goin’ to buy me a drink or not?”

A darker ghoul came around the side. “Can’t bother to tell a girl hi?”

_And here we go,_ he thought sourly. “Hi, Candy.”

A glowing cigarette tip was pointed at the merc. “Cross here says he’s with another woman-” Irene indicated with a necrotic finger at Evelyn sitting at the bar counter, “-can you believe that?”

The other ghoul woman narrowed her eyes for a moment, and then looked back to their past regular. “Maybe if she wasn’t so pretty…”

Irene gave an ugly snort, taking a long drag. “She’s _way_ out’ve your league, _Cowboy_. Ya know, Carly was pretty upset with us after-”

Cross exhaled angrily, turning both women’s attention to his face. “ _Look_ , whether you believe it or not, we _are together_ -”

Irene laughed meanly, covering her lower missing teeth with a hand as Candy stood there slightly entertained. “I don’t know why you’re lyin’, but go ahead, go give her a big ol’ kiss if she’s yours.” Irene jabbed a thumb towards the bar. “I _have_ to see this.”

“Was plannin’ to anyway.” The ghoul left his two nightly run-ins and made his way to her seat. He spun her chair to face him and grasped her face with both hands, kissing her fully on the mouth.

When Evelyn began to kiss him back both prostitutes gasped, their hands flying to their stupefied faces.

“How did he accomplish _that_?” Irene miffed, angrily smoking the last of her cig. She was about to begin her interrogation when a smaller hand laid over her shoulder gently.

“Let’s let him be, hon,” Candy softly requested. She gave a glance back at the two unsuspecting lovers; they were now seated together and the merc had his arm around her waist; Evelyn was telling a story animatedly to the bartender. “He looks _different_.”

“He looks _happy_ …and completely sober,” Irene growled, not bothering to hide her scorn. “Course she’s a _smoothskin_. Lucky bastard.”

The women went about their usual evening tirade; Cross was amusedly watching Evelyn berate the man beside them for buying her hard alcohol.

* * *

The rain and wind rattled angrily against the windowpanes. The ghoul had made to close the shutters, but Evelyn had protested and he grumbled at her request.

“I like to watch the rainfall,” she defended herself, scratching away in a small notebook.

There were torn pages, and he assumed it was where she had supplied her notes. After a few moments, she then snapped her scribbles away; he had only seen her pull the thing out twice in their entirety together, he did not know what she jotted down. In a way, he was afraid to ask- it reminded him of _her_.

“If you stand outside you can see it plenty,” he joked, and she stuck her tongue out at him in a rude manner. “Is that supposed to offend or entice me? Right now, I’m gettin’ the latter.”

This was their third day at the outpost. The weather took its fury out on the wasteland, and they were lucky to have been squirreled away in decent lodgings while they waited for it to pass. She had denied him intimate pleasures for the entirety of their time; he was beginning to go stir-crazy from having her so close but unattainable. Deliberately, he crawled into bed beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist and sinking his head into her side. He groaned, and she gave him a childish pat on his shoulder.

“You’ll live,” she simply said.

“At what cost?” He muffled into her.

She gave him a light shove. “Wasn’t there a job requiring someone of your expertise? Go do that, go do _something_.”

It was true. A request had been put out for the disposal of a small gang of bandits that had decidedly holed up in the sewer tunnels a few miles out. Cross was given a missive from the front desk.

A guttural sound resonated in the back of his throat. “I want to do _you_.”

She smiled coyly at him. “Get back fast enough and you might get lucky.”

A single eye opened to stare at her.

* * *

_Crinkle crinkle_

The folds of the letter were becoming increasingly worn; the ferryman did not have to recite the words to know what she had written; he had reread the passages so many times he had them memorized.

The cleanup team had relieved them of their post in Serrato, and he was sitting over the edge of the wharf back in Lake Capers. The murky waters lapped below at his feet like eager dogs with their lolling tongues. The sky was gray, and there was a chill that warranted warming clothing. He did not mind the cold; it seemed to suit him.

He sighed through his nostrils, rubbing at his jaw as his eyes scanned the page almost religiously; it was as if he was hoping there would be a sentence he had missed, something else from her that he could devour. But the words remained the same, and she still had not come back for him.

_‘I’m sorry, Charon. I suppose that sounds a little harsh, after everything- just a simple **sorry**. I don’t know how else, or what else to say-’_

A rumble of thunder; it was going to rain soon.

_‘I will be back for you, I **will**. I told you I want you with me…but it will have to be after Braxton. I know you’ll be mad, but you’re always mad, so I guess it won’t be contributing to much-’_

He snorted.

_‘When I come back, and if you still want to travel with me- I mean, I won’t force you to, if it’s not what you want- but I hope you’ll be there, for who else is going to ferry me through?’_

His thumbs traced over the last passage; a poem she had written; she was always good with words. He closed his eyes and felt her lips upon his; the way her eyes had intertwined with the hot flames of his own. Before, his only concern with her mouth was the sharp words she would bite out and reap the trouble for. _Now_ -

He had not been intimate with a woman in a _very_ long time; he did not even remember her features, just a nameless face that hovered against his as they exchanged carnal pleasures. Evelyn was no longer his employer, so he did not have to withhold himself about thinking sensual thoughts of her…and yet, he _couldn’t_. She was just simply Evelyn; she was violent, witty, _stupid_ , brave…and beautiful. She was _his_ Evelyn; he was her ferryman.

He did not think he could love her in the way the bounty hunter did..but did he simply just _love_ her?

A brief flash to all of their past altercations; being shot at, receiving the biting end of a bullet, crying over the heartlessness of the wasteland, laughing at a crude joke from the bartender, carrying her through an irradiated swamp as she complained about the smell-

The Lone Wanderer suddenly spoke into his mind.

**_Charon, you’re my best friend…actually, you’re my brother. It’s been a long year with you, and I’m glad I had you through it all. Thank you, for everything._**

His light blue eyes had a soft smolder as he mouthed the words of her poem.

Yes, yes he did.


	21. Let's Talk

_This is **not** where I want to be._ The whipping wind and biting rain blew asunder upon everything that so happened to be in its path. The bounty hunter drew the hood from his slicker as far down as it would go, the fingers cascading long rivers of frigid water down his sleeve. _Goddamn it’s **cold**._

His mind flashed back to the warm bed where Evelyn was waiting for him; it didn’t make it any easier that she had stripped completely naked, a teasing smile on her lips as she waved to him at the door. He inwardly groaned and gave a violent shiver. He was going to _more_ than make it up to her when he got back.

There was no use in pulling out the binoculars; the rain was so vicious it would’ve blinded him. Still, the bounty hunter was careful; he didn’t make it this far in life by diving head on without taking proper precautions. There was only one accessible manhole entrance that he had found; the rest were buried under landslides of mud. His hulking form crouched in the swaying bushes; his faded leather slicker providing perfect camouflage in the dull brush. He constantly had to wipe away the thin sheet of water that nearly drowned him. An hour passed as his muscles grew taut and his back began to ache; there was no visible sign of movement near or around the entrance, just a torrenting flood of questionable liquid.

_I’m getting too old for this shit,_ he grumped, his scowl mirroring his thoughts.

The merc made his approach. The deafening sound of the storm muffled his footsteps; he paused to check for any traps and continued on inside. The rusted grate was open; he slipped along down the narrow corridor of available walkway and began to construct his mental map as he stealthily stalked around. The sewers were deep. Small islands of decaying ferals protruded from the murky waters in a few areas; a shoulder here, a head there. 

“I’m telling ya, Stede, no one’s going to eat that shit,” a masculine voice tremored from around the bend. “Better off ripping into some ferals.”

The bounty hunter paused in his steps; quietly, he holstered his gun into the palm of his hand, gently clicking the safety off with a grey thumb. For insurance, he wrapped the other around the handle of his blade.

“Fuck _you_ , Marshall.” By the sound of it, he designated the second speaker to be a woman. A very young, woman. “You try cooking this crap! I’m _sick_ of eating mutfruit, and if I ever see another radroach again-”

“Both of you, can it.” A third. There was shuffling and the clanging of metal. “Just-just do what you can, Lydia. Once we get the drop-”

A mean laugh from the woman. “What _drop_ , Stede? Been staking out the place for weeks and now we’re stuck in this _shithole_.”

The merc peered around the corner. The woman had her back turned, busily stirring thick goop in a metal pot over a smoldering fire. One of the men was sitting on a bedroll, nursing a whiskey bottle to his lips; the third was angrily stalking up to her.

“Look, if you hadn’t botched that last run, _girl_ -”

The woman whirled to the side, holding the metal ladle up threateningly. “I _told_ you I needed more time! Disarming a damn _sentry bot_ -”

The merc coughed loudly. All three heads turned.

“Sorry,” he rumbled; his sights aimed. “Two options: you can come with me, and I won’t shoot you. _Or_ , I can just shoot you.” Silence hung in the air as the three of them blinked stupidly at the bounty hunter, and he rolled his shoulders back in a stretch.

“Who the _fuck_ are-” The man beside the girl was already drawing for his weapon. A gunshot rang out, and he instantly dropped.

The woman cried out in surprise, the ladle clanging to her feet as her hands flew to her open mouth.

“Whoa whoa now, easy there.” The man sitting on the bedroll carefully set the bottle down, his hands raised above his head as he slowly went to stand. “No trouble-Lydia, put your hands up.”

The woman complied, her dark eyes wide with alarm.

“We’ll come. No need to shoot.” The man gave a definite nod. “Get moving, girl.”

The bounty hunter narrowed his eyes; the young woman began to shuffle forward, and her arms were shaking. _Just a fucking kid,_ the merc growled inwardly, and he glared at the man making his approach behind her.

“Stop-”

The man quickly shoved the woman forward into him, diving a hand into his jeans as the merc instinctively banded her flush to his side, his blade pressed against her throat. Both drew their weapons up, but the merc was a better shot. His bullet made its mark; the other was a hole of dust in the wall behind him.

The woman grunted as his blade pushed firmly against her. He peered down, raising an eyebrow muscle. “You want to try somethin’ too?”

“N-no,” she sniveled.

“Good.” The merc kept his purchase on her, reaching inside his jacket to stow his gun away.

With his newly freed hand, he performed a quick pat-down on her person, and she cried out as he withdrew a small switchblade from her rear pocket.

“I’ve seen toothpicks sharper than this,” he grunted, tossing the weapon off to the side. “Let’s go.”

She obeyed him, much to his relief. Cross didn’t much enjoy shooting young women, and by the looks of it, she was probably no older than a teen. The kid was smart enough not to try her luck with him, and he shepherded her through the tunnels back to the surface. The rain continued on, and they both stopped at the entrance as it poured. The merc looked down; she was dressed in raggedy clothes, and her shaved head was stained from dirt and streaks of grime. She was shaking violently from the sudden cold of the freezing wind.

He sighed irritably. “Didn’t pack for the weather?” he half-joked.

She was hugging herself tightly, and only shook her head. The _thunk_ of his leather trench coat engulfed over her, and she was suddenly gone from the world.

“Can’t have ya drownin’ on me.”

* * *

A playful shriek.

“ _No,_ you’re all wet! Dry off first!” His hands were already at her breasts, fondling them gently as he dripped water all over her person. “You’re _cold_!”

Evelyn was laid out on her back, a golden-brown halo cast above her. Her hands stretched above her head as he climbed on top of her, and he tenderly held her face and kissed her slowly.

“C-cld!” she stifled into him.

He bit her lower lip a little too roughly and she squirmed underneath him; upon his release, his mouth moved to the small dip of her neck and he sucked on her. She gave a shuddering intake of breath and went to move her hands, but he took his left palm and grasped both of her wrists together tightly, pinning her in place. With his knees, he splayed her legs apart and inserted himself fully inside. She gave a moan, her hands clutching at the sheets as he continuously thrust himself inside of her. His dark grey tongue swirled around her nipple; his free thumb rubbing steady, long circles across her clitoris.

Even though his decades of sleeping with multiple women irked her, it had extreme benefit from the added experience he had trialed and errored over the years.

Their flesh smacked against each other loudly as there was a thundering knocking at their door.

_What the FUCK_. They both paused, breathing heavily onto each other as their heads turned.

The knocking continued.

Cross blew out an aggravated sigh, then kissed Evelyn solidly on the forehead. She gave him a baffled look as he rose off of her and reached for his damp clothes. He saw her getting redressed in the corner of his vision and he grimaced to himself. They had both been pretty close, but he would just have to make it up to her later.

The doorframe shuddered.

Evelyn was faster than he was; she was hastily dressed but decent enough, and she threw open the door just as he finished buckling up his pants. “What the _fuck_ do-” she growled, and it died in her throat as she took in the younger woman standing before her, sopping wet and dripping water all over the floor.

Lydia’s fist was about to come down where the door had been, but she quickly withdrew it back to her side. Her eyes then went wide as she stared over the top of Evelyn’s head to the lumbering half-naked ghoul coming to stand behind her; she snorted and looked down at her feet.

“You owe me.”

Cross narrowed his eyes. _“What?”_

“I-I said, you _owe_ me.”

Evelyn was whirling her head back and forth between them, a puzzled expression behind a curtain of curls.

“Owe you?” Cross growled down, using his full build in intimidation. It worked.

Lydia shrunk away a bit, blinking stupidly at Evelyn before crossing her arms stubbornly. “I need some caps.” She then held out a hand expectantly. “I got nothing.”

Cross barked out a laugh, rubbing at his face and turning his back to shuffle away. Evelyn knit her brows together, attempting to puzzle the pieces into a whole picture. “How _old_ are you?” she questioned, her palm flush against the side of the door.

“Old enough,” the girl snapped. She then looked ashamed and stared off to the side. “He took away all I had. I just need something for the road.”

The gears were slowly turning in Evelyn’s head, and then the lightbulb visibly lit. “ _Oh_.” She turned her head around, glaring at the ghoul that was seated on the edge of the bed. His glowering eyes flitted between the two of them.

“Don’t give me that look,” he rasped.

“Did you just _leave_ her out there?” Evelyn angrily questioned.

“Of fuckin’ course not.” The ghoul worked his jaw. “Left her with Bob.”

Evelyn gave a thorough once-over of their guest, but the girl refused to meet her imploring eyes. Standing off to the side, Evelyn indicated with her head for her to enter.

“You can’t be _serious_ -” Cross began.

“Put some clothes on and go get us some food,” Evelyn directed. The ghoul smashed a palm into his forehead before snorting loudly and reached for his boots. She pointed to the table. “Take a seat.”

* * *

“Evelyn.” A hand was outstretched.

“Lydia.” A calloused one was given in return.

A small shake was made, and then Evelyn cupped her chin into her palm and stared at the girl. “Where are you from?”

A shrug, and a glance off to the side. Lydia was busying her chocolate eyes around the room, soaking in everything to avoid that oceanic wave.

“You don’t seem too upset over your friends,” Evelyn prodded. “Family?”

Silence. Evelyn set her arm down and thrummed her fingers atop the table, leaning back in her chair.

“I’m sure there’s a place here where you can stay; we can find you some work, Cross seems to know everyone.”

“What kind of name is that?” she finally spoke, and her hands came to rest upon the table. Her tongue stuck out from the side of her mouth as she nervously wrung her hands together. “Sounds dumb.”

Evelyn laughed, and the girl stole a glance at her. It was a pleasing sound, and she almost cracked a smile at it. “I agree. I’ll be sure and ask him at some point.”

More silence, and those dark eyes focused onto a particular mark upon the grainy wood. “It doesn’t bother you…that he’s a ghoul?”

An amused smile. “No. Should it?”

A lazy shrug.

The door opened, and a bag of greasy, undisclosed contents gave a _smack_ upon the tabletop. Evelyn raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you make that?”

“No?”

“Oh, _thank God_.” She clapped her hands together in a quick prayer. He shoved her as he pulled a key from his pocket, and it clattered at the girl’s elbow.

“You got two nights. Carly said she needs a new desk attendant downstairs; I don’t know you, kid, but I put in a word.” He shook off his cold jacket; it was now wet again from his journey outside. “Make it work.”

The girl’s fingers slowly spiderwebbed over the room key, and she conveyed it into her lap. “T-thanks.” A hot, wrapped sandwich was fished from the bag and slid over; the steam rising made her wipe away the saliva at the corner of her mouth.

“ _Jesus_ kid, breathe,” Cross muttered as they both watched the young woman devour the entirety of her food fervently.

“Here, I’m not too hungry.” Evelyn slid her share forward, and it was greedily swiped. She turned in her seat. “I didn’t know you had a moral compass.” She ducked from his swing at her.

Lydia choked on a bit of bread, thumping her chest and pushing a large exhale out of her nose. She enforced herself to chew slowly, ripping into the meal with smaller bites as she observed the interaction between the two.

Feral ghouls were a well-known character in her book about the wasteland. She knew of _ghouls_ , but rarely had an occurrence with one. Cross, lucid or not, was still downright _horrifying_. Seeing the walking monster acting so casually with a woman like _her_ \- she did not know what to think of it. The audio of their sexual engagement that had filtered loudly through the door before she had knocked rang through her ears, and she felt her face burn hotly at the mental images it fabricated. She closed her eyes and forced the thoughts away, quickly going about to finish the sandwich.

“You dyin’ over there?” the ghoul rasped at her. “Face so damn red you look like you’re about to explode.”

Her eyes opened and she willed herself to meet his gaze. He was perched on the edge of the bed, a cigarette brought to his leathered mouth and a lighter being worked. The ghoul was all muscle, and well defined. She licked her fingertips and shakily rose from her seat.

“Thank you.” She gave a curt nod and turned to flee from their room, her heart thumping as she closed the door behind herself.

* * *

“Come back to bed,” the ghoul called to her. Evelyn was still staring at the door; a strand of hair being worked around a finger and her eyes distantly seeing something he could not. He groaned. _“Leave it.”_

A huff. “Maybe-”

**“No.”** Grey fingers massaged over his eyes. “She’ll be fine, if she’s smart.”

“But-”

The ghoul growled and sat up. “I could’ve just told her to go home.” 

Evelyn’s finger released its tawny captor, and she tapped the table in mild irritation. “Yeah, _now_ I want to come back to bed.”

The bed frame squeaked under his weight as he rose, he then dipped and lifted her over his shoulder and dumped her onto the mattress. Their fingers slowly went to work at the other’s clothing, their naked bodies becoming familiar with the molds of each other as they cast themselves to their furnace. When they had finished, the ghoul sat at the table to smoke and watched Evelyn begin to pack away the inventory she had the foresight to purchase earlier; a small knot was forming in the pit of his stomach.

There was only a little over a week of travel left before they hit Braxton; he was still just as blind to her vendetta as he was to…pretty much _everything_ about her. He could reach out and stroke his ruined fingertips across her smooth skin at any moment, and they could make love and assuredly wake up to each other every morning. But all he had was her name…hell, he realized he didn’t even have a _last_ name for her.

She had offered none.

She was slowly twining her fingers around the threads of his past life; the fact that she had heard him mention _Amelia_ was enough to make him shudder. He was trying to keep a tight lid over his personal memories from her, but she already had her hands dipped inside- whereas, his were completely cut off. He just about had every curve, scar, and mole memorized on her body, and yet he did not know a single whisper of her thoughts. He had completely submerged into her ocean, but it was empty, and he could see nothing but the open sky and endless stretch of sand.

“You want to know about Darcy Lackins?” The words made her instantly freeze, and he knew he had enough of her attention to continue. “I’ll tell you _exactly_ what happened. After we talk.”

“Talk?” The word was breathed so quietly he thought he had imagined it. “About what?”

“About you not goin’ to Braxton.”

Those eyes alit in fury. “That’s not _fair_.”

“Never said I was,” he rasped at her. “I’ll tell you what you want to know; you hear what I want to say.” The magician disappeared behind a curling veil of smoke, those milky hazels regarding her warily.

She ran a hand through her hair, clearly distressed. Her feet paced up and down the room, and she looked as though she wanted to lash out at something. The ghoul left her to her decisive nature; he considered his next thoughts sensibly.

“Who’s Amelia?” She spun around, her hair bouncing behind her shoulders. “Why is she so important to you?”

Those faded eyes simmered into lethal slits. _“Don’t change the subject.”_

“Why?” She dissolved into tears, sobbing. As much as he wanted to shove the conversation under the rug and apologize ignorantly, he didn’t. 

He had to have the answers, even if she threatened to leave him for it.

He leaned forward onto his knees and cradled his head in his stalwart hands. “Why did you leave Charon behind?”

The question threw her, and she sniffed, wiping the snot away. “I…I didn’t want him to risk his life for me.” There was a slight tightening of her voice as though she was lying, but he chose to ignore it. _That_ was a _whole_ other conversation he did not wish to have.

“Then do you see why I don’t want to take you to Braxton?” he asked patiently, lifting himself partway up to hold her gaze.

She held his stare, and then bit her lip and looked to their bed. “I’m not intending to die there.” She grazed her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. “Besides, I can die at any time. Why focus on the _what if’s_?”

He bit the inside of his cheek at her snarky recount of their previous conversation. She was clever, and she was going to successfully spiral him down a hole if he didn’t tread along carefully.

She crossed her arms defensively. “Was Amelia your lover?”

The shot blew him in the chest, and he viciously rubbed at his face. “Evelyn, I’m **not** goin’ to ask you again.”

A dark shadow crossed his face, and she read his grief like an open book. “She was your _wife..._ wasn’t she?”

The ghoul slammed his chair back, thrusting on his jacket and reaching for his things.

“Leave me, and I will leave you,” she said tonelessly, staring a hole through him as he fumbled for his boots.

The ghoul was so enraged he did not whether or not he would strike out at her. Instead, he threw a fist back and punched a hole through their wall, and when he spun around at her, she was staring at him unfazed. There were no tears, or any sign of emotion betrayed on her face. She reached her fingertips out and he took a step backward from her. He was pinned against the wall as she continued towards him, until she finally wrapped her arms around his torso and gently buried her head into his chest.

_“I’m so sorry,”_ she whispered, closing her eyes as she melted into him.

* * *

**thud thud thud**

“Did you guys hear? Chief was found dead inside-” The wheezing sentinel abruptly moved as Charon sprinted past him; he ignored their calls as he made his way to the security station.

It was a mess.

“How in th-”

“Move, move move!”

“I _literally_ just spoke to him-”

“Harrington said he’s on his way-”

Charon snapped his eyes to the blonde deputy; she was sitting alongside the far wall as the medical staff was busy applying a defibrillator. “Clear!”

“What happened?” Charon ground out at the woman; she widened her eyes slightly at his approach.

Clara rubbed at her mouth and nose; she appeared distressed. “Heart attack, they think.” She nodded her head at the flurry of commotion inside the office. “He just- _dropped_.” The shock was coursing through her body, her legs were shaking.

The ghoul whipped his head back to the scene.

“I’m still not getting anything- time?”

“Almost twenty minutes.”

“God- _damnit_.”

The ghoul clasped his hands behind his back and paced about, his eyes never leaving the body of his employer crumpled on the floor.

An hour passed, and they had called it. The body was transported to the morgue; Charon was left standing to the wayside, contract in hand as the mayor began his delegations in an attempt to calm the department down. He didn’t bother to listen- there was no need to. He stepped outside. His employer was dead; he would need a new one; Evelyn had said she _would_ come back-

“-hey! Wait!” The deputy. She had been crying. “Where are you going?”

He carefully tucked his folded contract away. He would need to retrieve his gear from his locker. “To Braxton,” he rasped, blinking down at her.

She gaped at him, dumbfounded. “What, _why_? I thought you wanted a job-”

“It was bestowed upon me. I had no choice.” He then crossed his arms and sighed. “I am sorry for your loss; the Chief was a good man. You should replace his position.”

“Wait, _what!?_ ” Clara giggled nervously, the shock beginning to wear off. She licked her lips. “So, you’re not staying?” There was a small glimmer in her eyes; it was minuscule, but Charon recognized it, nonetheless. “We could really use you, especially now.”

“I do not think you do,” he replied, for both matters.

She snorted angrily and looked away; her mouth drawn in a hard line.

“You will be fine,” was all he left her with as the rain began to fall.

The ferryman went and collected his things; he made his way to the hotel and pounded away at a door. It opened.

“Who- oh, what do you need friend?” Campbell scratched at his bare chest.

Charon held up a bag of caps and gave it a light shake. “I need an escort to Braxton.”


	22. Can You Tell Me?

It was late.

The bottle was almost empty, his fingers fiddled with his lighter. There was a lit cigarette inside the tray, the trailing snake of smoke lingering, tempting him for another drag. He had not moved from his seat for hours, and he was considering going downstairs to drown his thoughts away in familiar flesh and alcohol. He had purchased a third room, and she had said nothing to him when he finally calmed down enough to leave. Whether or not she kept her threat serious at this point he didn’t really care. She was cracking him open and sucking at all there was inside; a damn raven bewitching him with those knowing eyes.

**_Terrifying._**

He was in the hole, and the shovel was tossed alongside with him. Evelyn was peering down over the edge, taking handfuls of dirt and sprinkling them over his face. All of that trouble, and he still didn’t have a single thing on her; she just took the sledgehammer and decided to bust out his knees. Never in his life for two hundred years had someone cornered him so acutely, and so fast. All of the past women he had been with usually cut their questions short; they were like him, and they understood what they had lost, all those years ago.

She reminded him in those moments with her heightened intuition of another woman whose skull he carried around; his fingers encircled inside the hollow of her eye sockets. There was no familiarity physically between them besides the blue eyes; they were both beautiful women, but in their own rights.

Evelyn was the ocean. Capable of creating maelstroms while providing warm waters to submerge yourself into.

Darcy was the night sky. She was seemingly endless and captivatingly lovely, while being so far away you could not touch her. She was a star; distant.

He had not even attempted in reaching for those stars; he felt the chill she created, and it left him seeking sanctuary in something warm. It was in the multitude of other women that kept him thawed out every night when he was around her.

Evelyn in her own right could be reserved, but Darcy simply lacked empathy.

The glass clinked against his front tooth as he guzzled the rest of the scotch down. So many _fucking_ _women_ that plagued his life, and yet he could not help but draw back to them. He stumbled into the hallway, scratching at his jaw, and he made a decision. When he knocked on her door she answered, and she held no anger or elation at his return.

“Can I come in?”

She said nothing, taking his hand in between her own and leading him to the bathroom. They stood beneath the spray of the warm water, the rivulets forming rivers down their spines, and she kissed him gently all over his ruined body, his sins awash with the stroke of her lips.

* * *

_You do not love him._

**_I do! You cannot tell me what I do or do not feel! You have no right!_**

**_…_ ** _then you are lost, my Evelyn._

Her head was nuzzled against his chest; his arms tightly embraced her. She wiggled slightly and sat upright, attempting to not wake him from his slumber, but she felt his fingers squeeze around her wrist. An eye cracked open at her, and he slowly closed it and sighed noisily through his nostrils. Evelyn’s hair was a wild cascade around her face, and the morning sunlight washed it in a heavenly glow. A bony index fingertip traced around an areola, and he then brought it down and cupped his palm behind his head.

Evelyn blinked into the sunlight. “Darcy was my mother.”

**_Mother…?_**

Her voice was indifferent. “I have no feeling of attachment to her anymore; she made sure of that herself.”

The merc squinted an eye at her. _Yeah, I could see that_.

She offered him nothing more and his hold around her wrist never loosened.

“So, your mother, huh?” he finally said wearily. “Don’t see much of a resemblance.” He was biding his time, beating around the bush.

“She told me to come find you.”

Now both eyes were staring at her. _“How?”_

“In a- _uhm,_ she wrote to me…I…I think she knew she was going to die…she mentioned you, and that’s when I came to find you.” She was unblinking and passive. “I only found her journal, about a year ago…”

The ghoul remained silent, and he closed his eyes. The inner turmoil that flooded through him was a tsunami, ravaging through his memories and past emotions. He _secretly_ wanted to connect the dots…he could not understand why Darcy would mention him- _after everything he-_

“Did you kill her?” she asked him.

Silence, and then, “…no.”

“How…did she die?”

That strong hand pulled her down onto himself, and she laid the side of her head against his chest, his rhythmic breathing soothing her thoughts. “She killed herself.”

He waited for her reaction, but she simply laid there against him, quiet and unseeing. There were no tears or cries of anguish; he almost thought she didn’t hear him, until she rolled away and he let her go. She was sitting on the edge of the bed with her back to him, and his fingertips stroked down her spine.

“Do you think you will ever love someone as much as you did with Amelia?”

Cross retracted his hand back to his side, and she took that for his answer. When she went to rise, his voice graveled out. “I don’t think I can take that kind of pain again.”

“If I died in Braxton, would you simply pretend I didn’t exist?” She half-turned to him, her hair a velvet curtain across her shoulders.

Now he growled low in his throat. “Are you askin’ me to love you?”

“Do you not?”

He barked out a laugh, shaking his head and rolling away from her. She found no offense in his response; those eyes were just watching.

“Did Amelia look like me?” she asked.

“No.”

She almost seemed visibly relieved at that, before her face eroded away into indifference. “You came back to me, _twice_.”

He said nothing.

“Why tell someone you need them in your life if you do not love them?” Her eyes were burning a hole into the back of his head. “Are you only with me because I’m the only woman with skin that’ll sleep with you? Do I remind you of her just in that way?” 

He was furious again at her persistent, stupid questions. He angrily thrust the bedding away as he sat upright. “I take it back. You are fuckin’ _just_ like Darcy.”

Evelyn hastily turned from him like she had been slapped. She visibly shook and went about getting dressed. Neither spoke another word to the other as they changed into their clothes. 

* * *

Evelyn was no longer the calm pacific seas. She had crystallized into snow; a frozen lake, and he was trapped underneath the ice, left to freeze.

He led them on and neither exchanged so much as a glance to the other. The day passed with minor altercations as he kept their journey to the interstate; the distance between themselves and the city of ghouls narrowing further and further with each and every step.

When night had fallen, she left him alone by the fire and sat beneath the stars; the constellations she traced mumbled off her lips. He sat close to the flames, but he did not feel its warmth. Eventually, he grew weary of their detachment; he had attempted to reconcile with her, but she merely stared at him with wordless thoughts beyond her years and looked back to the encapsulating galaxy.

Darcy’s ghost had taken her form. He took to drinking again.

Their match had been relit and snuffed out so many times, he did not whether they would just burn at the ends together.

Morning came, and went. Evening came, and went.

She hadn’t spoken a single word to him since that morning in the hotel, and it was beginning to eat away at him. The raven was picking its teeth with his bones, and he feared he would be reduced to nothing by the time she was done with him.

They made it to the next town. She rented a room and locked the door behind her. He went to the bar and toyed with the idea of revisiting a woman that lived just a few miles on the outskirts. By the time he was so drunk he couldn’t even remember her name, he ended up stumbling to Evelyn’s door, his fist pounding against the frame. Wordlessly, she let him in, and he fell asleep against her warm body as soon as his head was laid down.

Morning came, and went. Evening came, and Evelyn got shot.

They were making their way through a hollowed city, a couple of scavengers camping out in the ruins took aim and struck her in her right shoulder. Another shot rang out, nailing her in the inner thigh.

Cross took careful aim and returned the favor. Evelyn was already on her knees, trying to dislodge her bag from herself. Her canine sunk into her lower lip, drawing blood; tears blinded her vision.

“Lay down.” Cross helped her with her bag and dug through her supplies for the equipment he needed.

With his knife, he sliced away at her clothing, conscious about not catching her skin. She was exposed to the night sky, a small offering of pale flesh and warm blood to whatever God was spying down on them. The bullet from her torso was extracted, the tiny piece of metal making a _clink_ against the asphalt. After the inoculation, he moved down to her leg, and his face contorted into alarm.

_There was so much **blood**. _

He panicked.

_Fuckfuckfuckfuck_.

She clenched her jaw extremely tight and exhaled through her nose in rapid gasps. When the bullet was procured and tossed behind his shoulder, he injected her with a stimpak. She was still soaking in the crimson Nile, and he injected her again.

_“Heyheyhey-”_ She was beginning to nod off, and he cradled her into his lap and grabbed her chin, giving her face a light shake. So **_much_** blood. Her eyes were fluttering as she fought to stay awake. “Don’t you _dare_ fuckin’ die on me.”

_I’m with you, Amelia. I’ll be right here with you._

_But I don’t want to **die**._

“Evelyn,” he ground out. Her breathing was slowing, and for a moment it appeared to have stopped altogether. He shook her roughly. “You better fuckin’ wake up; your ferryman will have my _ass_.”

A wheezed chuckle.

**_Thank you, God._**

He kissed her face repeatedly, tasting the metallic copper from her blood on his tongue. His lips pressed against hers, and he felt her kiss him back weakly. He smiled and then rubbed at his face vigorously, marking himself like a demon in her crimson ichor.

* * *

“Man, oh man- you need an escort or a damn brahmin?” Campbell joked wearily, the lights of _Carly’s Lounge_ glinting at them in the cover of night. “This pace…I don’t think I can do much mor’it. I’d have a better shot at Serrato all over again-”

Charon just rolled his eyes for the hundredth time and grumbled vexingly. He had paid the mercenary a decent amount of caps for the job, but he did not pay extra for the added side conversation. He glanced down; Campbell was hunched over, almost hobbling along. Maybe his pace _was_ a bit much. It’s not like they had stopped for long periods at a time; Campbell had been extremely disappointed to rediscover Charon’s sleepless advantage.

“We got to stop for the night, ain’t no way in hell am I going to miss the night at _Carly’s_.” He grinned, patting Charon solidly on the shoulder, ignoring the ghoul’s mutterings. “You can’t tell me you don’t want a drink and a girl after these last couple of days.”

It had only been mild confrontations for the ghoul; an abandoned town that was crawling with raiders they had strolled through- well, at least _now_ it was abandoned. He was relieved and apprehensive that signs of Evelyn had not been found yet in their travels; the bounty hunter was good at his job.

They stepped inside the establishment, a woman and a young girl were at the front desk to await their requests.

“Heya Carly.” Campbell gave a polite nod of his head, then tipped an imaginary hat down at the girl. “Ma’am.”

“Campbell.” Carly crossed her arms defiantly. “Suppose you’re not here to cause any trouble too?”

“Trouble? Why-”

“That damn _ghoul_ -” she glanced at Charon, “-I _swear_ , that’s the last time I rent a room out.”

Campbell exhaled a chuckle, laying caps on the counter. “Cross was here?” Charon stiffened visibly to the side.

“Go take a look at the damn hole he left in the wall and you tell me,” she growled, her dark eyes snapping to the girl beside her. “Go on, count the money and get their keys- log it in the _right_ \- oh, good girl. You’re _smart_.”

“Did he have a woman with him?” Charon ground out, and all of their eyes turned at him.

Carly gave him a once-over. “He did. Pretty thing- can’t see the reason behind _that_. He’s a sleazeball.” Charon grunted; he liked this woman.

Carly then watched the transactions made with hawklike eyes. “If you happen to see that damn zombie-” she looked at Charon, “-no offense- tell him he’s _never_ welcome in the _Lounge_ again, or I’ll have Bob shoot him.”

Campbell gave a wave of his hand, his key jingling. “Will do. Always a pleasure, Carly.” He gave wide smile, and the two retired upstairs.

Charon felt the eyes of the younger woman trail along behind him until he disappeared from sight. They set inside their respective quarters, and the ghoul was about to begin cleaning his gear when there was a knock at the door.

It was Campbell.

“Going downstairs for a good time. You wanting to come?” He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “Be good for the road ahead.”

Charon was about to shut the door in the mercenary’s face, but hesitated. Evelyn _had_ been here; that was the first sign he had received of her presence since she left him. If…if there were others, who could possibly tell him _more_ -

“I will be along shortly,” was all he said, and he closed the door.

* * *

“Oh my _lord_ , Candy- take a look at _that_.” The ghoul prostitute blew a cloud of smoke in the air, flicking the ashes to the side. “Glad I wore my good dress tonight.”

The darker woman peered through the hazy smoke of the lounge, eyes tracking the overly large ghoul parting a small wave through the crowd. She hummed in appreciation. “He’s bigger than Cross.”

“He’s bigger than them _all,_ ” Irene giggled, bringing a finger to her mouth to pinch where her lips had once been. A habit was a habit, and they were hard to break. She twirled her gaze back to her counterpart. “So, yours, or mine?”

Candy had an amused smile on her face. “I’m already booked with Clive tonight, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right.” Irene primped at her patchy hair. “Wish me luck.” She blew a kiss and began to weave her way through the throng, coming to his elbow as he sat at the bar. “Hey honey, you got plans for tonight?”

Charon turned to blink at her and said nothing.

“He doesn’t talk much, hey Irene.” Campbell leaned back in his stool, giving a nod of his head. “Heard Cross came through. You know when?”

Irene angrily smoked her cigarette, blowing it to the side while tapping her heel. “ _Yes_. A few days ago- the bastard had a smoothskin woman. I ain’t too happy with him right now.”

“Did she look well?” Charon asked, snapping the woman’s glare to his face.

“Who, the smoothskin?”

He nodded.

Irene angrily crossed her arms. “Everyone seems so damn obsessed with her; can’t see how, way she talks to a man like _that_ -”

Charon reached out and gently cupped a palm around her shoulder. “Please.”

Irene looked down to his hand, then off to the side, visibly debating an internal struggle. She then said, “Yeah, healthy as a brahmin, far as I can tell.” She gave a sharp nod with her chin to the bar. “Buy me a drink, and we can talk a little more.”

Campbell raised an eyebrow at the exchange, blowing out a big breath of air and clapping the ferryman on the back. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He then ambled away with two glasses and a bottle, a beeline straight for his regular girl.

Irene took a seat, and Charon grumblingly ordered two drinks.

* * *

“So, you already count the-” Carly paused, stroking her fingers across her square jawbone. “You’re good, Lydia. I _like you_.” She then snapped the logbooks shut, stowing them back to their proper place on the shelf. She glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’m going for a smoke break; can I handle you to watch the desk? I’m _trusting_ you now, you hear?”

A polite nod.

“Okay, just holler if there’s any trouble.” She shrugged into her broad-shouldered jacket, her heels tapping along the floor as she went outside.

Lydia blew out a breath, carefully shaking the ornamental snow globe of _O’Hare International Airport_ and setting it back down on the counter. She then, too, peered at the hands on the clock. Only a few hours to go, and she could get some food and some sleep.

_Make it work_. The ghoul’s words graveled through her thoughts, and she frowned to herself. He didn’t _know_ her; he didn’t understand what her life had been like up to this point. He didn’t know how much she had stolen, gotten beat for, _hurt people_ -but here she was- a roof over her head, some caps in her palm, and three-square meals of decent food a day. It was decent living to be made, and not everyone was so lucky to have the chance that she was just given. _That_ made her angry.

What right of it was his to give her this?!

She was crossly scribbling on a coffee-stained piece of paper when the ferryman staggered through the lobby, a ghoul woman by his side. She blinked at him; he _too_ had asked about Evelyn; the woman with hair the color of the rich earth, and eyes like the winter sky. Did she have an affinity for _just_ ghouls?

“C’mon, honey, it’s not too far,” Irene soothingly told the ghoul.

It was very strange to hear that gorgeous, lusty voice coming from the mouth of a woman that looked like _that_.

They both made their way up the stairs, and Irene met her peeping gaze and simply gave her a wink.

* * *

“So, honey, how do you like it?”

Charon was busily undressing and did not answer. His shirt came over his head, and he tossed it to the side.

“Right- _silent_ and _strong_ type.”

For a moment, he panicked. He hadn’t done this in so _long_ , would he- _remember_? Even though he did not… _want,_ Evelyn, in that way, their kiss had ignited _something_ inside of him. He was a contracted, murdering ghoul; it did not mean he still didn’t have urges. He could not continue blindly without Campbell; he was forced to wait until the mercenary was reprieved enough by the morning. For the moment, he had news that Evelyn was safe and well. And she _was_ his employer, wherever she may be.

After a few drinks of some hard liquor- when was the last time he felt _buzzed_ \- he **_never_** allowed himself to be intoxicated around her, he did not want a conflict to arise and make him sloppy-

The prostitute was already at his pants; her dress was in a crumple on the floor. She did not look at him the way the deputy had; there was no hint of longing, or some other need he knew he could not fulfill. It was simple lust, and that was something he could tend to...at least he thought. It was over as quickly as it had begun, and he was minutely aware that she was still pinned beneath him. He gradually rose, sliding his massive girth from inside of her and sitting down to the side on the bed. He gave a snort and rubbed at his eyes, trying to focus against all the stars that swarmed his vision.

Small hands encircled around his wrists. “You okay, honey?”

He grunted in affirmation, inhaling deeply before he met her eyes. “I am fine,” he said as gently as his grating voice allowed. “Did…did you enjoy it?”

She leaned forward, planting a small kiss on his mouth. “You know how to get a girl fired up,” she answered honestly, adding, “sounds like you _definitely_ enjoyed it.”

“I did.” He implored her eyes with his own. “I…I would like to try that again, if that is okay with you.”

She breathily laughed. “Yes, that is _more_ than okay.”


	23. One Step at a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So! I've been perusing my works and greatly need an overhaul in some grammar editing, (getting learnt, watup), anyways, bear with me as I go through past chapters to try and clean and sift through. Also, I guess it's to be expected that I tend to update this fic on the weekends; I like to edit my chapters when I have the time on my days off. I try to shoot for two chapters, one for Sat and Sun. Anyways, blah blah blah-oh yeah, I guesss sex at this point shouldn't be a surprise in this fic? yeah.

Evelyn slept for a whole day.

He had secured them inside of an old metro station; his gun was kept loaded and his mind was kept clear. The bottle was put back on the shelf and he busied himself by tending to her. He helped her strip out of her clothing and his hands soothingly washed the blood from her body. He then paced up and down the tracks as she remained almost… _dead,_ to the world, nestled inside of her sleeping bag.

A fire in a barrel crackled loudly to the side.

He didn’t even smoke.

When she finally lifted herself from her cocooned inhabitants, she drowsily looked around and rubbed at her eyes. “Ch-Charon?”

“I don’t think he would be too happy with me right now.” A joke. It sounded phony to his ears.

Her eyes focused, and her blissful expression melted him. _“Cross.”_ She held her hands out to him, and he crouched down so she could grab at his face. She pulled him into a kiss, and he gladly returned it. She then pushed him away and smacked him. “You _fuck_. How did you not see those two fucking goons?”

“Could ask you the same question.” He rotated his jaw in its joint, the hit smarting him. He darkly chuckled; at least they were back to normal, again. He tenderly whisked the stray hairs from her face, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “What? You goin’ to hit me again?”

She sucked the air between her teeth. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

His fingers froze. “Like what?”

“Like you’ve never seen me before.”

It took him a moment to process the meaning behind her words, and he just shrugged his shoulders and pulled her into a tight embrace. When his body began to shake, she enfolded him in her pale arms and breathed hotly against his neck.

She muffled into his shoulder. “I guess you’re stuck with me for a little bit longer.”

* * *

When she had passed out in his bed, he was unsure of what course of action to take.

The ghoul had no need to ever actually _use_ his room; a table and access to facilities were all he really required. Irene seemed unmindful of the fact that he was a permanent insomniac…although, sometimes he wished he wasn’t. The prostitute dozed away after their short, burst sessions over the course of the night, and even though he felt _satisfied_ \- he was still overall restless.

The morning light began to filter through the drawn shutters, and he quietly gathered his things to make his leave.

Campbell only arrived a short twenty minutes later in the lobby. “Have yerself a nice night?” he drowsily drawled.

The ferryman said nothing but made a move for the door. The mercenary stifled a yawn into his hand and followed suit.

* * *

Lydia watched the two walk down the main street from behind the ratty curtain of her room, the painful _thump_ of her heart beating away at the cage of her chest. Overly callused hands for an overly young woman ran through the prickly hair she needed to shave; brown eyes flitted to the clock beside her- it was _early_.

She was not expected downstairs for a few more hours. A hot meal, a nice shower, some more minutes spent in a comfortable bed…

The room key was left at the counter with the morning attendant, who gave her a sidelong glance. Words consisting of _thank you_ and _I’m sorry_ came to the tip of her tongue, but they just didn’t feel appropriate. A loud sniff, and she burst through the front doors, giving cautious chase to the two strangers.

Charon was the first to take notice of their stalker- he didn’t even bother arming himself, a nasty glare was enough to halt her in her tracks. 

The crunch of Campbell’s boots trudging through the dry brush came to a halt; the dirt shifted beneath his weight as he slowly turned to take view of their guest. A light-haired eyebrow raised as his hungover brain muddled to place her.

Charon growled warningly, causing her to startle backward.

The wiry mercenary had a visible lightbulb. “Did I not pay my full due or something?”

A slow shake of her head, and she avoided the ferryman’s glower. “Are…are you- _following_ them?”

“Who?” Campbell asked.

Her fingers twiddled at the fraying hem of her shirt; it was suddenly the most intriguing thing for her to behold. “Evelyn…and that _dumb_ ghoul.”

Campbell exchanged a glance with his companion, and he crossed his arms down at her from his spot on the slope. “They friends of yours?”

A shrug as she looked out to the wastes. Unexpectedly, she became very defensive and prickled. “I can pay you what I have- it isn’t _much_ , but I’m just looking to…talk, to them.” Her eyes held a great deal of wariness as she returned them to the mercenary. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

Campbell let out a breath, followed by a dry laugh. He rubbed one palm over his mouth and gave a shrug in return. “Need to talk to them that badly, huh?”

The head nod was hesitant, at first, but then it grew vigorous. “I won’t be a burden- I _swear_ \- I can-”

_“No,”_ Charon’s garbled voice interrupted, and he simply turned his back to her and walked away.

Lydia gaped at him stupidly, her brows forming together harshly as her temper washed over her timidness. “What do you mean, _no_?”

The ghoul let loose a very irritated sigh, pivoting on his heel and towering over her. **“No.”** He then pointed back in the direction of the outpost. “Go back, it is not safe.”

“ _Fuck_ safe!” she growled at him, her body cowering away as he took a step towards her. The pissed-off expression held. “I-I just…look, do you at least know where-”

The ghoul reached back for his shotgun and she gave a yelp, scrambling from view.

Campbell gave a disheartened shake of his head. “Was that really necessary?”

“She will die, otherwise,” Charon grumbled, squinting his eyes at her retreating figure. “Let us continue.”

* * *

“So much for _that_ , then,” Campbell muttered to the ghoul, stealing a glance back to the small head that suddenly disappeared behind the formation of rubble. “Think she’ll stop?”

It had been nearly eight hours of travel, and the ferryman just snorted. The girl was not their issue…and it would be entirely _her_ fault if she were to end up being killed- just a damn kid, probably around the same age…back when he had first stridden through those double doors, back in Underworld.

A loud, obnoxious sigh. The night was drawing close, and the dangers would be prevalent. She appeared unarmed, underfed, hell, her damn _clothes_ \- it was going to be a cold night.

Campbell turned at the sound of Charon’s footsteps coming to a pause; the ferryman was glaring at their hidden pursuer. A few moments passed, and she cautiously peered over. Charon held out one hand and turned the palm towards the sky, beckoning her forward with two fingers.

A cautious step, followed by another, and soon she was within grabbing distance. His long reach ensnared her in an iron grip, and she began to scream until he shook her like a ragdoll. When he stopped, she stared upward, drowning in a dizzying spin.

He released her and she fell to her knees. It was almost a play-by-play of how he had met the Lone Wanderer, and the irony was not lost on him.

“Go home.” His words resurrected themselves from those years ago, and it was almost déjà vu for the ghoul.

“Don’t have a home,” she recited perfectly, completely unaware of the string she was pulling from his past.

Charon gave a snarl; _one_ smoothskin in his life was bad enough as it was, but _two_ -

He growled at her. “You are stupid.”

* * *

The ferryman had lied. _He_ was stupid. The smoothskin, whose name he had not cared to remember, was now curled up close to the side of the campfire, twitching in her sleep to the sounds of the nightly wildlife surrounding them. She was in a flight-or-fight response _constantly_ , he had come to realize, and he discovered she was actually quite smart.

She was almost the exact opposite to Evelyn personality-wise; reserved, watchful, _scared_ …but what she lacked in reckless abandon, she made up for with tactful sense. The cogs were spinning wildly behind those bright eyes; she was studying them, always on the edge. Even as she slept, he had no doubt she could wake herself at a moment’s notice and be at the ready- whereas Evelyn would require a solid boot to the face before she would register the danger.

A memory of her being awoken to a radroach crawling over her sleeping bag; the hysterics of that night made him inwardly smile. His thoughts now dwelled onto his employer, as they so constantly had as of late, and he stared off into the night, subconsciously hoping to see something that was not there.

* * *

The crows were busy desecrating the bloated corpses by the time they emerged into the sun, Evelyn had paused and blinked at the dried pool of dark blood that belonged to her.

Cross would not meet her eyes, and he did not care to narrate his inner monologue about their previous night. She only pursed her lips and began to stroll past him, taking a moment to pause and smack his ass before she continued. He growled in surprise, startled, and she winked at him.

“Better me than Charon.” She stuck her tongue out; he quickly hustled himself towards her and she cried out a yielding plea.

They stopped for the afternoon in an abandoned freighter; he had stepped up inside the rusted-out semi and whistled at her. With a raised eyebrow, she seized his outstretched hand and he effortlessly lifted her along behind him.

“Are we hiding from something?” she asked, setting her pack down and rubbing at her shoulders. He was scratching at his bald head as he threw his own bag to the side. “Hello?”

He grabbed his binoculars and studied the area outside for a moment; she took a seat atop a metal container and drank some water. When he returned, he turned down her offer of hydration.

“You’re goin’ to need it more than I do.”

“I am?” She sucked on the bottle noisily, inhaling some water as he began to strip. With a cough, she thumped herself on the chest and watched him kick off his boots and jeans, his erection flinging against his stomach. “Uh-are… _now_?!”

She covered her mouth with her free hand and laughed, but he didn’t seem offended. “We couldn’t have done this earlier? We’re parked in the middle of fucking _nowhere_ \- I’m still tender from being _shot_ , and you’re just expecting us to _fuck_ after all that?”

“We’re the only souls for miles-”

“Yeah, _uh_ _huh_ , a testament to the other day.”

He ignored her. “-and I ain’t goin’ to mess with you down there. Now finish your drink and take off your top.”

She tilted her head back in surprise at his commanding tone. _“Excuse me?”_

“You deaf, or stupid?”

Those blue eyes formed into slits, and she spun the gears in her brain trying to decipher his behavior. She then cracked a grin and chucked her empty bottle at him. It rolled harmlessly at his feet. “Are you _trying_ to make me angry on _purpose_?”

He sighed and rubbed at his face, and she knew she had him.

She quickly worked at the buckles of her clothing, stripping herself bare despite his demands. She caught his glance at the blooming bruise developing across her inner thigh, and he angrily looked away.

“Sit.” She pointed to a crate, and he complied.

She came to kneel between his open legs, playing with him for a while with her mouth. His hands fondled at her breasts in a comfortable mannerism, and when he was close, she removed herself and leaned back. When she had no intention of finishing him, he glowered at her.

“Oh? Someone’s mad?” She smiled widely, and he wrapped his hands around the back of her head. “Whoa, _Eastern Cowboy_ , you better remember whose mouth that dick is in.” She gave a canine grin. “I wasn’t going to leave you hung and dry, _Jesus_. You act like the _world_ is ending.”

“I’m goin’ to remember all this the next time,” he threatened, his fingers massaging the base of her jaw. She shrugged, swirling her tongue along his tip before removing herself again.

“ _So_ -”

“Fuckin’ _Christ_ -”

She then produced a lot of spit and dribbled it between the valley of her breasts, leaning her body forward and encompassing him between them. She worked into a smooth rhythm, and he flushed his forehead against hers as he came.

She stood away and swiped at the semen that was dribbled all over her chest and neck; she flung it at him, laughing as he dodged to the side. “I was only giving it back to you, you big _baby_.”

They cleaned up and dressed, deserting their temporary love shack for the next town ahead.

* * *

“Would’ve hated to been that person,” Campbell sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Charon was crouched, his ruined fingertips grazing along the dried flakes of blood along the pavement. It was old, but it was a _lot_. He prayed whoever it belonged to, wasn’t Evelyn. He leaned over the decaying remains of the bodies nearby and squinted; there was a perfectly clean shot to the forehead in both victims.

It _was_ them.

Lydia dimpled her chin with a look that said _not our problem, who cares?_

Charon whirled his head around, his fingers picking up two small bullets. Depending on who it was that got shot-

He growled at the implications. The bounty hunter must’ve gotten complacent if he had not seen the danger from a reasonable distance. If it _was_ Evelyn-

Serrato flashed through his mind, and he angrily tossed the bullets to _clink_ along on the asphalt. Without a word to his companions, he followed the faded trail of crimson into the metro tunnels, both acquaintances shadowing him.

A barrel with ash. The dirt had been _greatly_ disturbed by the subway tracks, but there were no bodies, and he finally forced himself to leave.


	24. The Alternative

When he saw her, he didn’t know what to say.

She was seated at the bar counter, like a hundred times before. Her hair was in waves down her spine; she was wearing that long sleeve blue shirt that perfectly complimented her ocean eyes. They were seated together, and the bounty hunter was regarding her in a way the ferryman did not recognize from before. Whatever their relationship had been, only seemed to progress.

He was handling her visibly in public, now, and they both either didn’t notice or just blatantly disregarded the disgusted stares throwing stones upon them.

Evelyn looked… _happy_.

He growled to himself vexingly. Perhaps it wasn’t the wisest choice to come back to her, after all. It was apparently obvious that she did not require his existence. But he was here, and she _was_ his last employer, and she was still alive to transfer the ownership of it. Wherever his life was about to be led from this point on, he was just content in being able to see her again.

The merc caught him approaching before she did; his eyes widened in surprise. “Evelyn.” The bounty hunter jutted his chin at him.

She spun around in her seat, and her face flew into an array of mixed emotions before finally settling on one: _joy_.

“Charon!” she cried out, jumping up to throw her arms around him. He caught her, grounding out incomprehensible grumblings as she hugged him. He set her down and held her away from himself. “W-what the hell! What’re you-?!”

The contract was shoved under her nose. “Chief Cooper suffered a heart attack and died. I have returned to you, as you are my previous employer.”

She stood there, stupefied for a moment, before snatching the contract and folding it into her back pocket. “We…we should talk.” A tilt of her head over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

He followed behind her outside down an empty alleyway, and she nervously wrung her hands together. “Charon…what are you _doing_ here?”

He blinked down at her. “Chief Cooper suffered a heart-”

“No, yeah, I understand that.” She bit her lip and gave out a sigh, rubbing at her forehead. “I mean, what are you **_doing_** here? I’ve asked you before what would happen to your contract if I died, and you said you would simply pick your next employer. Why did you come back to _me_?”

He gave her a weird look, as though she had stated something extremely obvious. “I wish to be with you; I was not the one who made the choice to be left behind.”

The words were said so flatly, she felt them wring around her heart. “Charon…I…”

His hands came to rest gently on her shoulders, and he leaned his head down close to hers. “I will do what is asked of you.” He then stood away, a thought on his face. “It…it is good to see you again, Evelyn. You look well.”

She bit out a laugh, wiping at the hot tears that had spilled. “I mean, I _did_ get shot-” His eyes blazed and she spluttered, the words dying on her lips. “But I’m okay! See?” She twirled for emphasis with a forced smile.

He crossed his arms and grumbled, clearly unsure of her truth.

A bite of her lower lip, and she bull-rushed him into a fierce hug. He grunted from the sudden air leaving his lungs, but he returned the gesture just the same. She buried her face into his chest and rubbed herself against him, deeply inhaling the nostalgic smell of leather and gunpowder.

“I _missed_ you,” she breathed, and he tightened his hold on her.

“That is obvious,” he said with a hint of amusement. A glare was snapped upwards; the tumble of hair flying over his arms.

“Didn’t miss you _that_ much,” she huffed, proceeding to tilt her chin up and away.

He barked out a laugh, bending down to firmly kiss her forehead; she bloomed in every shade of red. “I think you _did_.”

* * *

His thoughts were asunder as he smoked distractedly in their absence; the ferryman and himself had not quite left on notable terms, and he felt a stab of anxiety in his gut at the joy Evelyn had expressed upon seeing the crimson ghoul. Why the fuck would a previous bodyguard come all this way, unless-

A hand clapped down on his shoulder, and it brought him back to reality; the rowdy noise of the bar and smell of alcohol rooted him to solid ground.

“Oh, _Christ_ ,” the merc growled as Campbell went to sit beside him. “I was _hoping_ that I wouldn’t-” His jaw snapped shut, and his eyes became slits. A gray hand braced against the edge of the counter, and he spun his seat around to face their third wheel.

“You _idiot_ -” he snarled, “-what the _fuck_ are you-”

Campbell’s hand gave a solid clasp on the ghoul’s shoulder. “Hey man, go easy on her-”

Cross rose from his seat, palpably pissed-off. “I **did** ,” he said rather darkly. “Campbell, why the fuck did you bring this _kid-_ ”

“I’m _not_ a kid,” Lydia timidly defended herself, her voice wavering as she tried to stand her ground against the bounty hunter. “I-I just-”

“Lydia?” An inquiring voice made all three heads turn. Evelyn blinked at the girl and turned to Campbell. “Oh God, _you_ again?”

“Cazador.” An imaginary hat tip.

“What the fuck is going on?” Her hair whirled around her shoulders as she spun to look at everyone. It finally landed on Cross. “What are _you_ suddenly so pissed off for?”

A growl was all she received, and she planted her hands on her hips with a look that read _you care to repeat yourself?_

The merc redirected at Lydia, who was now nervously wringing her hands behind her back. Cross pointed at the door. “Go _back_ to _Carly’s_ , we ain’t lookin’ to make friends.”

“By herself?!” Evelyn gaped at him.

“She made it this far,” he snapped at her.

“She did _not_.” Charon finally stepped in, and the merc rounded on him.

Both men lent to a hostile atmosphere as they stared the other down, and both felt a small hand encompass over their wrists and squeeze down _hard_. The ferryman let loose a garbled hiss, removing Evelyn’s grip and turning to the side, muttering incoherent nonsense as he rubbed at the tender flesh.

“Ow,” the merc breathed out, but he made no attempt to free himself. “That _hurts_.”

“Big _baby_.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Stop being so dramatic.”

And just like that, his grumpy, old man persona fell away; he mumbled under his breath and sighed as he freed himself and reached for a smoke inside of his jacket.

“And _you_ -” She turned back around to the ferryman, grabbing at his bicep and spinning him to halfway face her, “-you just got here, so please, _don’t_ ,” she subtly pleaded.

He knew the look in her eyes; it spelled out _Charon, I know you’re pissed off, but I really don’t want to attract any attention right now_. She was his employer, binding once again. But, it wasn’t necessarily an order…

“Where did you get shot?” he rasped down at her, and the both of them froze.

“Oh, boy.” Campbell spun around in his seat, motioning to Lydia to follow. “Let’s go to the _other_ side of the bar, for now.”

She gave him a confused glance, and he nearly dragged her by the elbow as she kept her attention glued to the party of three.

Evelyn crossed her arms, leaning against the bar counter. “Does it matter?” She glanced over at a few players hitting billiards together in a game of pool. There was an outburst as someone made a scratch.

Her reluctance confirmed his suspicion, and he glowered menacingly at the bounty hunter dragging on his cigarette. “You are _lucky_ she did not go into shock from that much blood loss. She would be **dead**.”

Evelyn worriedly chewed on her bottom lip, expecting outrage from the grey ghoul, but he merely sighed, depressed. “Yeah…I **know**.”

“Charon, drop it,” she seethed at him, and he snorted at her, his knuckles cracking as his hands formed into fists. She recognized the preparatory motions he habitually made before laying out a blow, and she gave him an admonishing look. “I mean it.” 

A grunt, and he took the swing. It wasn’t like she had _ordered_ him not to.

_“Charon!”_

It was the second time the merc had taken a direct hit from the larger ghoul, and it still fucking _hurt_ , all the same. He honestly expected it, and he _could_ have evaded in time…but something kept him frozen in spot, and he alleged it was guilt.

There was a _crack_ , and he registered the agonizing pain- his jaw was broken, slacked as it sat dislocated to the side.

Instantly, there was multiple clicking around the room; nearly everyone had drawn their guns in panic at the two, rather _sizeable_ ghouls duking it out over the bar counter. If it had been two regular humans…then it was a free show, but no one chanced the risk at a possible feral. Especially if the feral happened to be over six feet tall and well over two hundred pounds.

The ferryman immediately noted the precarious situation he had placed them in, and he froze in midmotion before delivering another sanctifying punch. Evelyn was standing her ground between the two, her hands raised and breathing shaky. She licked her lips and was about to issue an order, but the bounty hunter lifted himself off the side of the counter and made his way for the exit. Everyone in his path shuffled cautiously to the side, and he stumbled out the door.

If they were going to clear the air between them, might as well get it done and over with…preferably with no sights aimed at their backs.

There was a drizzle of frigid rain, and it felt good against the waves of agony throbbing in his head. Evelyn was on his tail, and she was quivering from distress.

“Oh my _God_ , are you okay?!” The tips of her fingers reached towards his fractured face, but he intercepted her hand with his own and gave a reassuring squeeze.

He couldn’t speak, and he tried to relay a message from behind the milky whites of his eyes, _I’ve had a **lot** worse_.

“We need to get to the medical clinic, I saw it on the way in-” A tug of her hand, but he remained frozen in spot.

Charon had now exited the tavern, and there was a crowd of people huddled at the windows to watch the inevitable fight play out.

Evelyn whirled on him, ignoring the multiple eyes glinting through the dark. “Charon, _what the fuck!?_ ”

“That was a lot of blood, Evelyn. I was afraid you had not survived.”

A dark chuckle reverberated. “Ta- _da_.” She slapped her hands angrily at her sides.

“It is _not_ funny. He is too distracted by you.” Charon observed simply, and both ghouls met each other’s gaze. There was a bright glow from the ferryman’s eyes as the hot coals of his inner furnace roared. “You should not travel with him.”

A guffaw at his brute honesty. “That’s not how this _works_ -”

“He will get you killed.”

“ _Anything_ , can get you killed,” she shouted. “Didn’t we _just_ learn that, in Serrato?”

He snapped his face back down to hers, and his raspy tone had become heated. “That was different.”

“No, it sure as fuck _wasn’t_ ,” she scowled, pointing a finger threateningly at him. “Fucking _leave_ it, or I’m sending you off with someone else.”

Those white-hot orbs drew down to a slit. He had _just_ made his way back to her, and she was already threatening to cast him back out into open waters…the Lone Wanderer had not _once_ ever issued such a request, and here she was, doing it _twice_. Did those months of companionship not _mean_ anything to her? After all of those excursions…after all of those nights spent together, under the stars with nothing but each other? Isn’t that what the Lone Wanderer had spent so many months trying to make him understand? But she was _not_ him…not even close. And yet, when he had reached the end of his rope that was cast down into the abyss of a well that was his life, he could only draw up his love for her.

Two very different people in two very different times of his life, not so far apart, and yet miles away.

He sighed irritably, rubbing at his eyes. “What is it you would have me do?”

“ _Not_ try and kill him!”

“That was not my original intention,” Charon grated flatly.

“Look at his fucking face!”

A shrug. “An improvement.”

There was an amused, garbled chortle behind her, and she only ran her hands through her wet, ropy hair. “I’ll…deal with you tomorrow, Charon…just, go get a room, and fucking stay there.” She turned back to the merc. “Let’s go.”

There was an audible ruckus of disappointment behind the rain-stained glass from their peeping observers as the two ghouls began to walk off down opposite ways.

* * *

“…are you okay?” she softly asked, crossing her arms sulkily.

His eyes were closed, and he only gave a shake of his head as he stole a drag from his illegal cigarette. The doctor had expressed her distaste earlier. “Just fuckin’ _peachy_.”

“He…he just…means well,” she lamely excused.

“I think he means a lot more than that,” he muttered, blowing the smoke away from her. Gingerly, he rotated his newly healed jaw- it still fucking hurt. “I thought you dismissed his service.”

“…I did.”

“And he just decided to up and walk all the way here? For you?” he drawled angrily. He couldn’t help it- despite the truth the ferryman had spoken about him. It still didn’t make him any less angry. “Just what the fuck is he to you?!”

The moment the words left his mouth, he knew he had said the wrong thing, but he couldn’t help it. It felt good to have it in the open between them, despite that ambiance feeling absolutely murderous. Charon had a completely different look to his eyes when they had settled on her…it was almost, like-

“Did you two fuck at some point?” In his mind, it was a reasonable thing to assume. She clearly wasn’t bothered with the notion of being with a ghoul, physically or sexually. And it would explain a lot of the weird subtleties the two had around each other.

The question made her gasp aloud, and she violently shook her head and was setting herself to leave.

“Heyhey- **no**. Don’t just fuckin’ walk away…Evelyn-” He grabbed at her wrist. “I won’t get angry…I just have to know, _especially_ since you have that damn look on your face. I can tell you want him around.”

“…our relationship isn’t like that.”

**“Then what exactly is it?”**

“Why does it matter to you so much?” she snapped.

A disbelieving chuckle at her sudden defensiveness; the smoke from his lit cigarette was beginning to make the medical room hazy. “Are you fuckin’ serious? You don’t see the problem I have with this?”

An angry shrug, hypocritical to the fact she knew exactly what the issue was. “I don’t even fucking know you that well, we just fuck, so _what_.”

That hand dropped from her own, and he took a deep breath, focusing his attention on the cigarette in between his fingers. The vibe between them was reforming back to the way it was when he had first awoken on that cot way back in Earling, when his ribs were cracked and his arm was broken. He was beginning to grow truly angry with her.

“You’re just bein’ a bitch, and you’re just fightin’ me,” he growled, “if you want to just fuckin’ leave, there’s the door. I’m gettin’ fed up with this shit.”

Two hundred years later, and the ghoul was finally acting his age. There was a hiccup, and he narrowed his eyes at her as she wiped some stray tears. She took his advice and stormed out of the clinic without some much as a glance back. He rubbed at his forehead vexingly; he was getting _really_ good at sabotaging their relationship thus far.

* * *

The simple journey to Braxton was proving more difficult than the actual city itself. In her mind, it had all been laid out in a concise and convenient manner- Charon was…well, _Charon_. She was as reckless in action as Charon _wasn’t_ , and it was a partnership that ensured her survival in such situations. The ghoul was experienced and composed, whereas she, on the other hand, was a walking **nuke**. She needed someone to regain her feet after the fallout, and the ferryman was just the person she required when she took on the vendetta of finding Darcy.

Cross was the exact _opposite_. He wasn’t necessarily careless, but he was just as temperamental as she was, and he let it show in all forms: a gunfight, his words, even making love…it was a little rougher, than usual. And Charon spoke nothing but the truth when it came to the two of them- he _was_ distracted by her, and it showed on the surface of her skin.

Evelyn had traveled alone for _years_ until she had met Charon, back in the Capital Wasteland…perhaps they were not the issue that needed solving, _perhaps_ they **all** would fare better to each their own.

She groaned aloud at the thought of propositioning such a request to the two of them. They would both react like simple children and have a meltdown at the thought of her leaving them again. She had promised the merc she would not abandon him- if he even cared to still have her. Their incessant bickering and buried past traumas were beginning to draw them into a corner; they were both lashing out at each other, perhaps in fear of facing what they tried so hard to hide.

Evelyn hated to admit it to herself, but she really _did_ care for him. It was easy to understand why the past women in his life were so eager for his amorous company, even if it was _just_ ghouls, her being the exception. The bounty hunter was funny, charming, and she found him distinctly attractive despite outward appearances. He was the second ghoul she had ever been with romantically after _him_.

“Will that be all?” the desk attendant asked as she stood there, staring off into empty space.

The key jingled in her hand, and there was a _drip drip_ as water streamlined from her soaked clothes onto the floor. “Yeah, sorry.”

Her backpack and strewn clothes were resettled into a new room, and she stripped her wet garments to dry as she succumbed to a hot shower to drown away her thoughts. She bit her lower lip so unforgivingly it drew blood; a small scar beginning to form.

* * *

The first thing Cross noticed was her missing bag. It was obvious she had left him, again, and he cracked a fist and just sat on the edge of their bed, drained and callous.

There was no note to give an indication if she would return, or where she had run off to, and if he had to guess, she was probably already dragging down the road with the ferryman at her side. Although, he wasn’t quite sure what words he would say to her to make-up the situation between them.

He had given her the invitation to depart, and she readily took it.

There was the opportunity to just turn around and mosey on back to _Carly’s_ \- Irene was sure to be pissed at him, granted, but it wasn’t anything that would transpire past a drink or two.

The bounty hunter hadn’t had a proper relationship with a woman in _far_ too long, not like he didn’t remember exactly _how_ …an angry growl vibrated in his chest. He was too old to still be chasing, and having to be precarious with what he said and tied down to one fuckable body. Besides, she apparently was more interested in Charon than he could ever understand.

He seriously contemplated never seeing her again.


	25. Secrets Don't Make Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some kinky sex ahead wowzers.

_Knock knock_

Evelyn thrust open the door, ready to bite at the encroaching intruder. Cross was standing there, unsurely, a wine bottle with two stemmed glasses in his hands.

“I got your favorite,” he said rather poorly. “Bartender almost shot me; had to pay extra.”

The betrayal of pure appreciation for him bloomed on her face, despite the anger she still felt clawing at her insides. Cautiously, he stepped inside. He waited as she closed the door behind him, uncorking the bottle and pouring her a glass.

Her damp hair was beginning to let loose its wavy curls over one shoulder, and she was dressed in nothing but a tightfitting shirt and his favorite pair of lingerie. It wasn’t often you found intact lace, in the wasteland.

She thrummed her fingers along the side of her drink, and he took a seat on the edge of her bed. Neither spoke a word for a stretch of time, until the merc drank from his own glass and grimaced.

“And you say _my_ choice is bad. So damn sweet- _ugh_.” He put the drink aside, reaching inside of his jacket for a small flask that he began to unscrew. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged. “It’s for emergencies.”

She took a sip and tipped her chin at his jacket. “Just what exactly do you all have in there?”

A pensive thought. “Damn near everythin’ I need, I suppose.”

“Like _what_?”

The merc slid a hand inside on the right, pulling out two crinkled, worn pieces of paper. She instantly recognized the writings she had previously left him, and she felt herself melting for him. There was a blush, and she hid her face behind one hand as he grinned at her abashment.

“I’m still pissed off at you,” she said with a smile.

“Uh- _huh_.”

There was a pause as she drained her glass and gasped loudly. Cross could see she was beginning to feel buzzed, and before she could dredge up anything that could turn into an argument, a second glass was poured.

“Trying to get me drunk enough to come to bed?” she quipped meanly, swallowing the drink all the same. 

A chuckle. “Three glasses ain’t really a _try_.”

There was a crinkle to her nose as she tilted her glass back.

“Okay, maybe two is enough-” He reached for her empty glass, setting it down beside his own. “-you good?”

“What’s the point of bringin’ me a drink if I can’t even enjoy it?” She badgered, swaddling his lap and poking him in the chest.

“Cause you’re startin’ to talk like me, that’s why.” The merc licked his thumb and roughly wiped away the small remnants of blood on the underside of her chin that she had missed from earlier. “You _got_ to stop doin’ that,” he growled, scrutinizing the small scar she had gained over the pink flesh.

“It’s habit,” she said a little weakly.

“Well get a goddamn new one.”

“Terrible advice comin’ from _you_ ,” she drawled, leaning into him with all her weight. “…I’m sorry…”

He gave an exasperated chuckle. She was driving him fucking _nuts_ , and yet he couldn’t leave her if he genuinely tried…he had gotten as far as his door.

When he finally looked down at her, she was staring at him with childlike eyes. “Me too,” he said honestly.

A hiccup. “I’m just…lost.”

“Makes two of us,” he said a little sadly.

A cautious arm wrapped itself around her. “Huggin’ a damn mannequin is more comfortable than this.” She was stock-still against him, and he felt her beginning to soften from his quip.

“Is that from experience?” she softly asked into his jacket.

He blew air from his cheeks. “I ain’t too proud of that story.”

“I want to hear it, sometime,” she muffled into him, her fingers opening the front of his jacket to plunge her arms inside. She buried her head under a flap. “What is this?” Her voice was stifled from under his coat.

“Huh?” He felt her nab at something in one of his multiple inner pockets.

She withdrew, and in between her front teeth _was_ -

_Oh, shit_. There was the metal clinking of a key.

“Why the hell would you put that in your mouth?” He nabbed at it, and she growled as she held onto it like a dog. “Spit that out, you do _not_ know where that’s been.”

A _spetwoo_ , and he held it to the side and shook the saliva from it.

“What does _that_ go to?”

A defeated sigh. “It…belongs to a woman…I used to see.”

“And you’re keeping it _why_?” she raged.

“To be honest, kind of forgot it was in here,” he lied, the key disappearing back inside. It was one more thing he couldn’t seem to get rid of…one more thing tying him to _her_ …and he was already venturing a guess that Evelyn was going to be its next proprietor.

She sputtered, “And it’s _going_ back in?!”

“Got to give it back, don’t I?”

Evelyn gave a blank look, then burst out into cynical laughter. “You’re _serious_?! When are you planning on visiting _this_ one?”

“Pretty damn soon, I guess,” he growled, and her laughter ceased as she furrowed her brows at him.

“She’s…in Braxton?” she presumed.

The ghoul rubbed at the back of his head. “It’s not what you-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” The low threat of her tone made him pause.

“Are we goin’ to go through this every _fuckin_ ’ time?” he raged aggravatedly.

Their arguing was like a damn switch, flipping on and off at a moment’s notice. It was getting _exhausting_ , both mentally, and emotionally. His hands came to her face, and he tilted her chin upwards and kissed her. He spoke to her in a low, murmuring voice. “It’s nothin’ serious, okay? Just another thing in the past…so let’s leave it there.”

“…how long has it been since you’ve been back to Braxton?” she quietly asked.

“Almost…almost ten years…”

She clenched her fist, a furious look set on her face, and for a moment, he was afraid she would strike him. “Ten _years_ and you’re _still_ carrying it around? That’s not something just left in the **_past_**.”

“Holy fuckin’ hell-” he rasped.

“Was…is it Darcy’s? Did you- and _her_ -?” There was an uncomfortable expression on her face.

“Hell **_no_**.” He shook his shoulders at the implication. "But yeah...it's hers."

“…why didn’t you tell me before?” She went to remove herself. “Why the fuck are you carrying that around? What does it go to- _h-hey_!”

“Sometimes, you just talk too fuckin’ much.” A throaty growl, and he ensnared her jaw in one large palm as his other cupped a breast roughly.

“ _Ow_ \- too hard,” she complained.

A _firm_ squeeze, and she squirmed. He was in a _really,_ bad mood then. The weight of his head pressed against her temple, and he murmured explicit, sexual images into her skull in a somewhat- _frustrated_ \- tone. He twisted a nipple through her shirt, eliciting a sharp gasp from her, and his fingers traveled down her navel and reached under her underwear and between her wet folds.

He got her extremely close, but never finished. There was a flush kiss against her temple, and he threw her from his lap and onto the mattress, still fully clothed and his expression smoldering.

She half-turned in place, soaked down along her inner thighs. “What the _fuck_?”

He had already closed the door behind him, effectively silencing the colorful cursing that streamed from her mouth.

* * *

“Hey cutie, need some company tonight?” A man brazenly approached her.

“Fuck **_off_** ,” Lydia warned, her visible bristling not enough to deter the stranger.

The man went to open his mouth again, but a heavy hand landed on his shoulder and spun him around. “Go.”

The ghoul then shoved him to the side roughly, and he heard the click of a switchblade whip out. He sighed, drawing out his gun. The safety clicked off as he took aim, and the stranger froze. “You suicidal, or somethin’?”

He motioned with his gun for the man to leave, and the stranger hastily scrambled and curtailed down the way from view. “Damn kids,” he muttered.

Lydia was just standing off to the side, staring out into the open wasteland with her arms crossed and expression _fuming_. There was an unlit cigarette being held in between her fingertips, and the merc snatched it.

“Wh- _hey!_ ”

He inspected it, then flicked it into a puddle on the side of the street. “You’re too young to make dumb decisions like me…especially for bad taste like that.” He eyed her; she was shivering from the cold. “Didn’t pack for the weather?” he joked again.

A _hint_ of a smile.

He drew out his own cig and cupped a palm around his mouth as he lit the end of it, ignoring her hypocritical stare. An inhale, and the white smoke curled out from his mouth and into his nostrils. “Are _you_ suicidal? What the fuck you doin’ all the way out here? I got enough reasons for Carly to be pissed at me.”

The carefully planned words and thoughts she had been mulling over since their departure were gone out the wayside, rather, she just sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Job was boring…not my kind of work.”

The merc blinked at her, and she shifted the weight of her feet, startling as he erupted into a roar of hoarse laughter.

“Just what _is_ your kind of work, kid? Stealin’ and lootin’ ain’t favorable professions in the wasteland, trust me, I’ve been around long enough to know.”

A frown, and she just jutted her chin stubbornly out at the wastes. “I’m good with…stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Forget it.”

“You don’t have to bite the hand that fed ya,” he drawled.

“…what does that mean?”

A slow shake of his head, and he merely stood there and finished his smoke. When he was finished, the butt was dropped to the wet asphalt and rolled under his heel; the ashy embers dissolving against the blackened concrete.

“Did ya get a room?”

“…I’m fine out here. I’m used to it.”

_Christ_. He coughed into a fist and spat to the side. “Did Campbell just leave ya out here to fend for yourself?”

A scowl set on her lips, and he nudged her with his elbow roughly. “C’mon, we got ourselves an extra one.”

* * *

The plan had _horrendously_ backfired.

“I was just playin’-” he pleaded.

“Yeah, _me too_ ,” Evelyn said flatly.

“ _Ughhh_ -” The bounty hunter didn’t understand, shouldn’t she be just as _miffed_ as he was? He was overly eager to fuck her, but she just appeared, _unfazed_. “-there ain’t no way you’re not dyin’ like me.”

“No,” she coolly replied with a shrug, “I just finished myself.”

His jaw dropped open. “You _what_.”

“Oh my God, I’m sure I don’t have to explain it to _you_.”

“…you didn’t bother askin’ if I wanted to stay and watch?”

The lightly tanned skin of her face lit up like a cherry firework. _“No?!”_ She leaned away from the devious expression he garnered. **_“No.”_**

_“C’mon-”_

“No- _why_?!”

A garbled sigh and he ran his hands dramatically down his face. He was fucking sober, irritated, _and_ horny as hell. “I need a fuckin’ drink.”

There was the sound of a bottle being uncorked, and he snapped his head up to witness her taking a long draught from the wine he had bought for her.

He stretched over to seize it. “Goin’ to make yourself sick.”

The half-empty bottle was set on the nightstand, and when he rolled back to her, she had drawn flush against him. He was about to open his mouth to speak, and she raised her head and planted a kiss on his jaw; her soft lips were making a trail to his mouth, and his hands made the first move, his fingers hitching the hem of her shirt upwards.

They shared a desperate kiss, and he felt himself grow hard and anxious.

She appeared almost- _dreamlike_ , and he wasn’t entirely sure if it was the influence of the alcohol or her genuine desire for him. The garment came over her head, and he tossed it to the side of the mattress as she surveyed his lower body with the light traces of her fingertips.

She encompassed him with her hand and gave a squeeze, and he groaned quietly in her ear. Whatever thoughts he had previously of their fight that night were _gone_ ; he was sure she could feel the erratic _thump_ of his heart as he pulled her on top of himself.

A bite of her lower lip, and she was beginning to lower herself onto him; there was a stifled cry out and he shuddered as he gripped her waists urgently. She was hotly dripping all over his erection, and she whimpered as he directed her back upwards, drawing his knees up slightly and then pumping away at her.

_“Wait-wait! Fuck!”_ she cried out, her breasts bouncing against her chest.

He was only able to last for a few minutes until he bottomed himself out in her as he came. A garbled moan escaped his lips, and they both sat there with him still inside of her.

“Sorry,” he apologized, “I’ll make it up to you.”

She gave a breathy sigh, rubbing at her forehead with her fingertips, and removed herself. The airs he was receiving from her were choppy; he was actually afraid she was going to leave him again until she leaned forward and smooshed her body flat against his own.

“So _rude_.” She kissed his chest. “ _Especially_ after what you did to me- I expected better from you.”

The merc chuckled in relief, hugging her tightly. “You get me so fuckin’ wound up, you worry me sometimes.”

“I wind _you_ up? Mr. _here’s your dead mother’s key to something I won’t bother telling you about cause fuck you_ - _eek!”_

He had rolled them over, and he had her pinned down with a furious expression. “You really want to go there?”

“One way or another, it appears I will be. Braxton, here we come!” She sunk her head back into the mattress slightly as he leaned closer to her. Evelyn had become so accustomed to Charon’s massive size that the bounty hunter didn’t really register, but she was then quickly reminded just how _tiny_ she was compared to him…and Evelyn herself was average height, at least.

It was a turn-on, and she bit her bottom lip coyly as she flushed hotly under his burning expression.

His palm came to rest under her chin, and his fingers wound up the sides of her face, and he gave a firm clasp of pressure.

“We’re not gonna do this again, are we?” Evelyn gasped out from his strong hold on her. “Where you leave the job unfinished? I thought you _never_ failed to deliver-”

His hand had traveled downwards and swathed completely over her neck; she was getting _very_ good at knowing where to prod with him. A light squeeze, and she felt the warm bloom of blood pool in her face. He had never done _this_ before.

…but it also wasn’t her first time, and she grinned wolfishly at him, earning a glower.

“Aw, why so _shy, Cowboy?_ This other guy I fucked actually left his handprint-” A firmer choke as he sunk her into the mattress, and she instinctively grabbed at his wrist with both hands. He was terrifyingly powerful, something that she had never experienced before due to his mindful handling when it came to her physically. There was a desperate gasp as she drew in air greedily, and she licked her lips nervously. “Is this how you vent, when you learn your ladies have to satisfy themselves?”

The drunken buzz was making her stupidly arrogant, and she merely gave a toothy smile at the obvious displeasure he felt with her words.

He pressed his face into the side of hers, and his hot breath washed over her ear and neck. He began to whisper in that desperate, raspy tone again various suggestive things that made her visibly squirm from imaginative pleasure. She felt herself simply melt under him, and she grew limp when he finally pulled back from her.

“You’ve _never_ acted this way before,” was all she said, and she had to breathe in deeply to refocus herself. “Do…do you do this…with other-”

“No.”

_“Oh.”_ She hid her smile behind her hand, that faint-headed sensation dissolving her brain. _“Uhm…”_

“You like that?”

A whisper. _“…yeah.”_

His hand gave another tight grip around her trachea, and he whispered devilishly into her ear as he had his way with her.

* * *

That morning had come, and he was the first to awaken. Gently, he unlatched her from his side, pausing as he took notice of the purple bruising she had garnered around the delicate skin of her neck.

_Holy shit_ \- Charon was going to fucking _murder_ him, probably with his monster bare hands. The merc could decently put up a good enough fight, if he was smart, but therein lay the biggest problem- Charon was _smart_ too. The fucker was a literal walking, breathing, killing machine. Maybe, if he were to-

A blue eye blinked at him, and then suddenly she was staring at him. “Hey, what’s wrong?” She sat up, laying a hand gently on his forearm. “You look…so worried.”

“I fucked up,” he admitted. 

Her expression contorted into bewilderment. “How…like, as in-”

“No- oh shit, _nonononono_ -” he quickly added at her suspicions, gnashing his teeth together at his almost _costly_ misinterpretation. “I just- _uh_ -you might want to go see for yourself…”

Her hand instantly drew up to the colored flesh. “Is it bad?”

“You got a scarf, or somethin’?”

“I do…Charon’s going to be pissed.” She clambered over the edge of the bed, tucking her hair behind her ears as she searched for something inside of her pack.

He used the bathroom and then came around the side and examined her; she was fiddling with a piece of worn parchment in her hands, chewing her lower lip in thought. He had noticed the ferryman handing it to her the previous night, and he was curious of its value. “What is that? A letter?”

“It’s…it’s his contract,” she finally relented, closing her eyes. “Charon is not like other people…he has this.” She held it out to him, and the bounty hunter took it into his palms, his eyes traveling over the faded lettering. “He is bound to whomever he is employed to…it’s why he came back to me. I should have just told you, I’m sorry.”

“Fuckin’ hell Evelyn.” He gave a low gruff. “He’s a damn _slave_.”

“I…I know,” she whispered. Her fingers were nervously wringing themselves together. “But he doesn’t think of it like that, _trust me_ , we’ve had the conversation a dozen times before. He’s just… _Charon_.”

“So then get rid of it.” He thrust the paper back at her. “Burn it.”

“I _can’t_. It’s-it’s all he _has_ , in his mind.”

“So you _are_ goin’ to keep him.”

“He’s not a fucking _pet_ ,” she growled, her temper rising, “he’s…he’s my _friend_ \- I had intended on coming back for him after Braxton.”

The merc almost opened his mouth to contradict her words, but he hurriedly stopped himself before his thoughts were spoken verbally. He did not want the ghost of Darcy reforming again. 

_“Ugh,”_ Cross grumbled; the notion of the ferryman in their lives again soured his mood, and he didn’t bother in hiding it. _Scritch scritch_ as his fingers met with his bald head and he scratched at it. His milky eyes flitted to her face, and they drew down in a frown. She was staring at him with a pleading look in her doe eyes, and to him, it was irresistible.

“What?” he arbitrarily asked, knowing full well he would already say yes.

“I…” She held the paper out to him. “I want _you_ , to have it.”


	26. With Reckless Abandon

**_Tch-Tch_**

The shotgun stock was reloaded back into its rightful place; the smell of gun powder and oil was overpowering, but the ghoul never took notice of it, anymore. The crimson tips of his fingers fiddled with the edge of his honed knife; a replay of some very disturbing memories ravaged his brain from the trigger of simply holding the blade.

**_Whoa man, calm down. It’s alright, Charon, hey- it’s me. I…I think you got them all…nice job man, do-do you want to sit down, or something?_**

The Lone Wanderer always had a rather sensitive side; Charon’s extremely violent and, sometimes, unempathetic nature tended to frighten the boy…but even then, did he never threaten to turn his contract away.

**_Hey, Charon- heeelllllooooo big guy, what the fuck are you thinking? Staring off into space when we got these fucks we need to deal with. So, you want the left, or right side? Just leave me_ something _._**

A snort, and he rubbed at his eyes. Evelyn had nearly succumbed to horrific injury so many times due to her careless nature, but she never seemed to mind the blood he spilled. They _were_ a fantastic combat duo; their relationship in dealing death and barely skimming past it were something they both appreciated.

_Knock_

An amber glint of light refracted from his blade as it was sheathed. His hand encompassed the door handle, and he opened it. Evelyn was fiddling nervously in place, a thousand cues displayed for him to decipher.

“Why are you wearing that?” The ghoul pointed at Evelyn’s fashion accessory, and she burned bright red. Charon was always inquisitorial when it came to something out of habit.

“It’s cold outside,” she fibbed, crossing her arms and turning slightly to the side.

“No, it isn’t.” His eyes narrowed at the extremely _small_ exposure of skin of her neck, and before she took notice of his awareness, he ripped the scarf down and growled loudly. A massive handprint was painted in a deep shade of purple. **“What the fuck happened?”**

Evelyn squeaked and slapped his hand away, her face a fleeting slideshow of every shade of embarrassment. _“It’s not what you’re thinking, **I swear** \- no Charon!”_

The ghoul was already stalking down the hallway before he realized his ignorance and whipped around at her. “What room?”

“It’s not like that I swear!” Evelyn’s hands went to her mouth as the ferryman was lifting a boot to toe into the first door he came to; if she would not disclose to him the merc’s whereabouts, then he would just put in the work himself. “I gave Cross your contract!”

The boot was a mere _inch_ from the unsuspecting tenant’s doorframe; it froze instantly. There was visible confusion working itself through the exposed muscles of Charon’s face, before finally drawing down into **wrath**. If what she said was true, then he was no longer contractually obligated to refrain himself.

**_Slap!_**

_“Charon!”_ Evelyn had placed some space between them, her breathing heavy as she rubbed at her cheek angrily. “What the _fuck_!”

He growled at his lack of control, turning his back to her and running his hands through his patchy hair. What the fuck was he _thinking_?

She turned to march away, but a large hand wheeled her around at the shoulder; she squeaked in surprise; she didn’t even _hear_ him approach. She was then smashed against his chest, and she wriggled under his vice grip.

“Evelyn, do not leave me. I…I am sorry.” His tone was pleading, and his eyes settled on the blooming patch of red skin across her face.

“I’m not going to _leave_ you…I just-” Her facial expression grew weary. “-I just…think we should take a break, from each other…just for a little bit, until you figure it out what it is that you want…it’s why I left you in Lake Capers.”

He just stood there, his arms still loosely around her as he blinked down passively. “I do not understand. What did I do wrong, Evelyn?” 

“Well, _hitting_ me, for _one_ -”

The ghoul tightened his embrace around her.

“Punching Cross in the face, for _two_ -”

“You **know** what I think of him.”

“The feelin’ is mutual,” the merc drawled from an open doorway, leaning into the frame and crossing his arms, “trust me.” His hazy eyes then narrowed at the tinged skin of Evelyn’s face. “Fuck happened to you?”

The crimson ghoul said nothing, releasing his hold on her and flexing his hands into fists before he ran them again over his patchy head. A loud sigh erupted, and it seemed to drag on for eternity.

The bounty hunter reached inside the folds of his jacket; he held out Charon’s contract in between the grip of two fingers and met the ferryman’s hateful eyes. “ _Hey_ , it wasn’t _my_ idea.” He coughed loudly, stowing it safely away, and ran a hand down his face. “That fuckin’ kid you brought with ya? Keep an eye on her…makes me nervous, havin’ a kid around like that- she’s in room 3.”

The ferryman gave an obnoxious sigh but did as instructed, leaving employers past and present to themselves.

* * *

Lydia did _not_ appreciate the attentions of the crimson ghoul. He was suddenly stalking her, and although it wasn’t _obvious_ , those burning eyes would constantly flit to her every move, and she was beginning to feel overwhelmed. She did not know what she had done to garner the extra attentiveness, and she was wracking her brain in thought at what to say.

Charon, on the other hand, was releasing his pent-up frustrations on his task…what did he _want_? What did that even mean? The Lone Wanderer, too, had asked him the very same question, and he was still nowhere close to finding an answer. His best guess would be Evelyn’s companionship…they had been together for months, and she was the void he had thrown all of his past, bitter loneliness into after the Lone Wanderer had died. If giving the bounty hunter his contract was her way of making the situation between them (whatever _that_ was) work, then he would comply.

Lydia was slowly chewing on a piece of overly dry brahmin jerky, staring at him with a question behind her eyes. His own refocused, and he snorted down at her. It seemed to startle her, and she threw her gaze away.

“Is something the matter?” the ghoul rumbled.

“Did I do something… _wrong?_ ” Lydia asked quietly.

Charon laughed, the sound like skipping a stone along concrete. It reverberated loudly, and it was something Lydia had never heard before. It was mildly uncomfortable. “No. I am to keep an eye on you, for safety.”

“I don’t need anyone looking out for me,” Lydia barked out defensively before she could stop herself. She bit her tongue, looking down at her feet.

**_Hey man, I appreciate the assistance, but I really don’t need you over my shoulder all the time._**

A broad-shouldered shrug. 

“Heard that,” Cross grumbled over his shoulder, taking a drag of his smoke. “You can walk back to Carly’s, if you want.”

Lydia huffed, instantly peeved. No response was made, rather, her calculating eyes roved over to Evelyn and Campbell.

“You don’t _have_ to come with,” she heard the older woman say.

“Charon already paid me the caps- I’m a mercenary who gets the job done, so, you’re welcome for the company, Cazador.”

Evelyn gave a half-turn, her lips upturned in a teasing smile at the grey ghoul. “Hear that? _Someone_ knows how to finish what they started.”

Cross narrowed his eyes _dangerously_ , and it was enough for Lydia to give concern for her.

“Be thankful he does not- you would not be here, otherwise,” Charon rumbled aggravatedly, flexing the muscles of his biceps as he crossed his arms.

Evelyn grew an entire shade darker, and her jaw dropped open stupidly at the ghoul. _“CHARON!”_

_“Charon!”_ Cross mocked her high-pitch squeal, giving a slap on her ass and receiving a warning growl from the other ghoul. “Let’s get goin’, you thought _Lake Capers_ was fuckin’ far.”

* * *

They were standing at the precipice of a bridge; the once whole structure had crumbled, and they had no way to cross the raging river for miles around.

“Hope everyone can swim,” Campbell joked, rocking on his heels.

“Is there really no way around?” Evelyn peered over the edge, a little too close for the ferryman’s liking.

“Not that I’ve ever used.” The bounty hunter hacked and spit a dark substance over the side. Both women crinkled their noses.

“That was _beyond_ disgusting. _Ew_.” Evelyn shook her hands in front of her, and then retreated from the bounty hunter’s advancement. “Don’t you _dare_.”

“Just a small one.” He grinned, opening his arms to consume her in a squeeze. He chased after her and she gave a squeak.

Campbell shook his head and blew out a sigh. “Can see if there’s a boatman around. Can’t imagine no one’s been able to cross in some way till now.” The tanned mercenary turned on his heel to begin making his way back across.

Charon’s employer was busily trying to kiss Evelyn on the mouth; she had her palms flush against his face and arms locked at the elbows. She blew a hair from the corner of her lips loudly as her arms were then swept out from underneath and to the side, and a deep kiss was planted on her lips. Charon tore his gaze down; he didn’t really care to watch their physical affections.

The sound of water splashing was heard over the edge; Lydia grew red as all three heads turned to her kicking at another rock.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, sniffing loudly and proceeding along in Campbell’s wake.

* * *

Cross’s lovemaking was nearly _desperate_ when they had the time, and she was becoming increasingly concerned over his wellbeing. Regardless, he wouldn’t discuss his inner turmoil due to the fact he didn’t want to worry her as well, but he was doing a piss-poor job of keeping it from overspilling the jar he contained it in.

“Okay, okay, _stop_.” She interrupted him one night, and he growled lowly in her ear.

He removed himself, going to stand by the open window of the building they had secluded themselves in, peering out to the moonlit wasteland. _“What is it?”_

“You, you _moron_ ,” she snapped, reaching for her clothes. Her bra was clasped behind her, and she tucked her shirt over her head, waterfalling her hair down her back. “Please, just talk to me. You’re starting to scare me.”

There was a flop in his gut. “I’m just worried…is all.”

“I know there’s more to it than that, don’t _lie_ to me,” she said warningly, pulling up her underwear.

He turned back around, rubbing at his jaw, when he paused and observed her getting dressed. “Were we done?”

“We are, and we will be until you get your shit together.” There was the buckling of her armored leathers, and he garbled in Hungarian. “Don’t _nem_ me this and _nem_ me that, I mean it.”

A chuckle, despite himself.

And she did.

It was already _two_ days, and he was denied sex the entirety of it. His hands were almost glued to her as he distracted himself physically in other ways- a long kiss that turned into _multiple_ long kisses, a touch of her face, or a stroke through her hair. He honestly thought she would become annoyed with his affection, but she surprised him, and instead, was rather _patient_ with him. It made him feel slightly demeaned, as though she was purposefully coddling him to where he would finally break down and speak his woes.

But he didn’t, and it turned into _four_.

Charon, on the other hand, was soaking up the irritation, and multiple times he practically had to detach the bounty hunter from her and toss him aside like a rag doll. Campbell chewed on his tobacco, spitting to the side, unfazed by it all. If he were honest with himself, he rather enjoyed the company…and he didn’t think it was possible for the grey ghoul to be thrown that far. Lydia was beginning to test the waters of the company with her toes, and she found she enjoyed it.

"Thought you weren't allowed to act out against me," the bounty hunter grumbled irritably after the seventh instance of being manhandled by the larger ghoul.

Charon had a look of complete ire over his face. "It is for your protection," he replied flatly, ignoring Evelyn's burst of laughter from the side.

* * *

They were in the middle of a firefight, and the merc got struck in the chest. Evelyn was stuck behind their cover on the side of the building providing reloads, and she ripped off his jacket to administer aid.

Cross didn’t stop his return fire, and she deftly worked around him in a ritual motion as she had done countless times before with the ferryman. The bullet removed and stimpak applied, he grunted and tossed his empty gun to her, reaching for her equipped rifle to continue firing away.

“So fuckin’ many of these bastards,” he growled, unleashing his pent-up vexations with the squeeze of the trigger. He drew back behind the brick wall, blinking at the empty space beside him as bullets sprayed on his opposite. “Evelyn?”

A growl, he looked up. There was an open window along the side of the building, and he cupped a hand around his mouth, shouting over the din of the firefight. “Charon! She’s rogue!” He just heard Charon snarl loudly.

There was a brief halt in the rain of lead, and he cautiously peeked out to view the raiders stationed along their makeshift bridge between the buildings. There was a loud **_bang_** , and a bathtub went flying through a doorway and exploded three people into a gory explosion, before crashing into the building opposite. The remaining two were distracted, and he took a shot, nailing one in the side of the head, the other retreating down the opposite side.

Evelyn was running along the rickety platform in chase, jumping through a widened hole where a door had been. She was _soaked_ in blood, and she had a crazed grin on her face with a string of grenades in her palm.

_A fucking demon,_ Cross decided.

Charon had burst from behind his safe space just as there was a manly scream, and quite suddenly, an **explosion**. The building went up in a glorious display of fire, cracking brickwork, and splintering wood. Both ghouls froze, trapped in horrific fear.

All four dashed to the scene, shouting her name as they came to the edge of the flames. It was a raging inferno inside, and the merc suddenly felt extremely weak and crashed to his knees. Charon cupped his hands and called out to her, but there was no reply.

A _thunk_ \- the bathtub.

They all blinked stupidly at it, and then realized it had _walked_ itself out. A scramble, and the ferryman flipped it over to reveal a white smile in a blackened face.

She lifted both arms in the air, completely fine and overwhelmingly ecstatic. _“Ta-da!”_ She pointed a soot-covered, blood-spattered finger at the merc. “How’s that for fucking _rogue_ , you twat.”

**_Slap!_**

She gasped, and sunk down into the tub and rubbed at her stinging cheek.

“You are so fuckin’ stupid!” Cross raged. “I thought you were dead! What the fuck was that?!”

“It’s called _‘What I used to do on the regular before I met you fucks’_ ,” she bit out, ignoring the smarting tears in the corner of her eyes. “You’re welcome, motherfucker.” She then crossed her arms and pouted to the side, and Campbell let out a boisterous laugh.

“Don’t,” Charon warned the mercenary, “you’ll only encourage her.”

“I think it’s way too late for that; you damn had us worried this trip to Braxton was for nothing at all, Cazador.” Campbell turned away, shaking his head as he went to loot.

Lydia gave a shaky sigh, resting her hands on her trembling knees.

“I like to keep my audience on the edge of their seat,” Evelyn muttered into the side of the tub.

She was acting like a chastised child just being told they had done wrong, and Charon gave a weary sigh. “That was much too reckless; if you wish to be stupid, at least have a plan for it.”

She knocked the rim of the tub with her bloodied knuckles in reply, still not bothering to look at him. The fire was crackling loudly to the side, and the makeshift bridge was being licked at by the flames. Cross dipped his arms inside her impromptu defense and scooped her out.

“I can’t believe you hit me,” she sulked at him.

“You have no room to fuckin’ talk, so shut your damn mouth.”

A _humph_ , and she kicked her feet lightly as he carried her inside the opposite building, maneuvering around the gore she had previously painted.

The dust had settled, and Charon wandered around the raider encampment with his combat knife in hand; the ones who had survived their initial injuries were gripped by the jaw, the edge of his blade slicing cleanly through the jugulars. By the time he was finished, his hands were dripping black. There was the sound of vomit splattering against the concrete after Lydia had spied his post-fight routine, and he grumbled as he rolled his eyes. _Sensitive._

Evelyn flit her eyes to the merc as he climbed some stairs, stepping over a dismembered corpse. “…wasn’t it _somewhat_ cool-”

A growl, and it was serious. She wanted to cry from the ire he was giving her, but she just chewed her lower lip and crossed her arms instead. There was a bathroom with another tub, and he dumped her inside, ignoring the cry of pain she felt from striking her tailbone.

“You _fuck_ -” The door was closed, and the shower came on. The water was ice, and she shrieked as she tried to maneuver out. _“-COLD!”_

His hands forcibly began to remove her clothes, keeping her pinned beneath the frigid waves of water, and she garbled inhumanely as she was soon left naked. That grey palm rubbed over her face roughly, drowning the hisses she was producing, and she coughed after inhaling some water. The ash and grime soon swirled along the length of the tub, gurgling down the drain as he scrubbed her clean.

She screamed frustratedly, but his hands just continued their work as he began to detangle her ruined braid of hair. “Fucking quit!” she yelled at him, earning a cupped hand full of water over her face. _“Blrgrh!”_

**“CROSS!”** The merc didn’t betray any outward emotion as he finished with the last strands. **“Let me go! CHARON!”** Now his eyes met with hers, and the absolute hostility he gave off made her waver, and there was the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. **“N-never mind!”** The footsteps halted, and she _swore_ she heard a sigh through the walls.

She finally just succumbed to his… _whatever,_ the fuck it was that he was doing. He was almost mindlessly distracting himself with her, and she was shivering under the cold temperature as she laid there submissively. The shower handle was then turned off.

_Drip drip drip_

The remaining water droplets from the showerhead fell against the floor of the tub, the only sound in the room between them. The merc simply sat against the wall across from her, his knees drawn up with his arms resting over them as he just stared at the side of the tub.

Slowly, her lightly tanned face came up the rim, stopping at just her eyes. They blinked at him, wide and curious as to his next move. No words were spoken, and she timidly reached her arms out to him.

Cross didn’t say a word, but his hands took the liberty of stripping down his clothes and proceeding to rip off the remainder of his jacket. When he was just as naked as she was, he climbed on top of her inside the tub, cradling the back of her head in his palm and kissing her surprisingly tenderly. Their lovemaking was slow, and methodical, and he grinded into her with such desperation she gripped the rim of the tub with one hand and cracked it. They froze, and blinked at the piece of ceramic in her palm.

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” he finally spoke, tossing the destruction over the side and flushing his face against hers. “You scare me so _fuckin’_ much.”

She merely wrapped her arms around his neck, observing with pleasure at how his gray muscled torso rippled over her with every stroke he made, and how his fingers made indents along her skin where he clasped at her waist.


	27. A Slight Hiccup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My love --> blipbleep. 
> 
> Also, basically lost my shit this morning as I was editing this chapter, and after a few hours of careful construction and some rewriting, the website decided to crash and I lost all my work. >:/ Not the first time for this to happen...

**_Whoa, man, did you see that?!_ ** **That _was a close one! Wher-okay, okay! You were_ right _! Charon, the all-knowing perceptive defender, sees all in the Capital Wasteland! Thank God you were here, otherwise, I woulda been bait for mirelurks!_**

There was a roaring _crash_ as the building across finally collapsed upon its weakened support beams; the sound of fracturing wood and brickwork being reduced to rubble drowned all other sound in the area, before finally settling into a soothing lick of flames.

**_Yo, man, thanks for saving my ass back there- you really are a superghoul, ya know?!_**

The said superghoul was casually sitting on some steps, across from the inferno his previous employer had both ignited, and so carelessly abandoned. The bathtub was still overturned; hot ash began to flow in waves and layer over its calcified ceramic coating. The Lone Wanderer and Evelyn were both lounging inside on either end; their faces were black with soot; they grinned dashing white smiles and brandished bloodied palms at him.

A warm weight gently laid over the ruined flesh of his exposed forearm and he blinked, inwardly startled. The mirage was gone.

“You okay, big guy?” Evelyn was sitting close beside him; he had not been aware of her presence in the slightest. “What are you thinking when you have that look on your face?” she asked quietly.

There was a screeching _phwing_ as something pressurized gave way and exploded beneath the remnants of burning bricks.

“I am fine,” Charon grumbled, shifting away from her by a mere few inches. She was so _close_ \- her fingers were tapping lightly on his visible, leathered muscles. “Where is your bounty hunter?” he redirected, although he knew full well. It was his job, to know these certain things.

Cross was currently on the second floor, and he _was_ rummaging around the disorderly salvage for something to wear; his leather jacket had been effectively decommissioned due to Evelyn’s earlier medical aid. _Now_ , he was watching them through a shattered window from above- it was relatively easy for Charon to identify that predatory gaze he felt on the back of his head. The merc was a marksman, after all.

“He’s _supposed_ to be looking for clothes to wear- _not_ that it’s _my_ fault-but he’s probably just drinking, which, I swear to _God_ if he is, I’m going to chuck that fuck in the fire- he’s making me worried.” Evelyn drew her hand back to her side as she hugged herself, rubbing her palms against her damp clothing with a forlorn stare. “He won’t talk to me about it…I don’t know what else to do.”

Their voices drifted upwards to their spying ghoul, but she didn’t seem to notice.

Charon gave a grunt, drawing his thumbs into his palms, and squeezing his fingers over to crack the knuckle. Two sharp pops sounded. “It is easy to understand why. You are making unwise choices, and yet you refuse to see reason against it.”

As always, Charon’s blunt truth stuck her in the gut like a white-hot rod dripping lead.

Rather than dramatically explode at him with a sharp rebuttal, or succumb to a tearful fit, she only stood to stalk away from him. The ghoul rose, his boots crunching bits of gravel beneath his weight as he turned around, his face apathetic as he caught the eyes of his employer. Those blue pits of fire burned against the backdrop of the wild flames behind him, and they relayed one message.

_Let her see how badly she fucked up._

_**Thump**_

Those rugged, blood-stained fingers lightly squeezed into her shoulder. “Do you remember Serrato?” It was ultimately a trick question, and a nasty one at that.

Of _course,_ she remembered.

The edges of her jaw jutted around as she angrily considered the implication behind his question, and he tightened his grasp. “You assumed I had died that day- what do you think my thoughts were when that building _detonated_?”

A shuddering sensation beneath the ruined texture of his hands; she was silently crying, her chin quivering and tears dripping down her cheeks.

Charon raised his eyes to the smoldering flames. “You are _selfish_ , Evelyn. You do not care to think of your own actions for the sake of others. **Look** at your bounty hunter.”

Cross’s volatile rage and Charon’s sheer disappointment at her actions fucking _hurt_ , perhaps more than any wound she had ever been inflicted with. But how was her choice of survival _unfair_? It was how she made it this far, and it was all she really knew.

A _wap_ as she smacked his forearm away. “Then maybe I shouldn’t have others for the sake _of_ , should I?!”

A murderous glower darkened his face. “Do not act like a child simply because I am right, and you are angry. If you wish to leave because you are upset, then do so. Cross will follow you…as will I.”

_“Why the fuck do you both **care** so much?!” _The words were spat out with an equal mixture of rage and heartbreak. “Did you fucking _hound_ Adam like-”

**_Slap!_**

For the second time, his palm had sailed directly across her cheek, with a little more force than he originally intended. Upon hearing the Lone Wanderer’s name so _spitefully_ , his mind forced his body to react in a defensive way. For the second time, his eyes widened at his lack of boundary with her, and he felt regret bubbling like a hot liquid in his stomach as she began to cry. The hand that had laid out the assault was now hesitantly reaching for the reddened skin of her face, but she violently jerked back.

_“Don’t fucking **touch** me, or I’ll break that fucking arm!”_

That blackened hand drew down into a shaking fist at his side.

A **_CRACK_** of thunder overhead; the dark clouds were rolling fast, and they would soon be caught in the deadly storm.

Evelyn suddenly felt the sides of her face engulfed as the ghoul clutched onto her, despite her threat. He would take the shattered bones if it meant she would listen to him for just a few moments.

“I _didn’t_ ,” Charon rasped honestly, and his eyes wandered over her ruddy face, as though in a desperate search for the words he was struggling to say. “And it cost him his _life_ \- I do not wish to cost you _yours_.” The tip of his thumb then grazed her lip, and he became consciously aware of his fondling. With an abrupt release, he spun on his heel and left her in her spot as an icy wave of rain befell.

The bounty hunter angrily took a drag, before removing the burning cigarette and crushing it in his palm.

* * *

“Guess we got a good enough place as any,” Campbell remarked dryly, shuffling down into his sleeping roll as the torrent of rain stormed beyond their door.

A callused hand scratched at the rough, dry skin of an elbow. Lydia had an unlit cigarette behind one ear, and she brought it down to rub between her two palms. She needed a lighter, and the man beside her didn’t carry one. Charon’s eyes hawked her movements almost unnecessarily; his earlier confrontation with Evelyn made the younger woman nervous, and she was afraid to look at him.

The bounty hunter was upstairs, murmuring unintelligibly in Hungarian as his thoughts bitterly whirled in self-doubt. Nevermind the fact he had lost his favorite jacket, but Charon's contract was burning a hole deep down inside his pocket. _He_ was the ghoul's employer now, and he selfishly figured that meant the ferryman would lose his _attatchments_ to Evelyn...but it was clear that wasn't the simple case. Cross knew better, and it jealously riled at him in ways he didn't know how to address.

Evelyn was clomping up the stairwell. "Did you finally find something to wear?" Her voice was tight, in a _I'm pissed off and don't dare ask why_ sort of way.

“Damn _hot_ ,” he grumbled, wiping a gloved hand down a sleeve. “Goin’ to miss that damn jacket.” He felt Evelyn’s dissecting stare, and his eyes flicked down to catch hers. “Somethin’ wrong?”

Her eyes refocused, and she bashfully shook her head.

His hand automatically went for its usual cigarette placeholder, and he grunted as he redirected his search, fumbling through the new array he had to contend with. “You sure?”

The outfit made him appear… _rugged_. The ghoul was a notably large individual, his towering height and broad build were already very eye-catching; in a sense, he was the type of individual women of his nature tended to flock to. She could only imagine what he had been like before the bombs had fallen.

The underlaying, burgundy shirt was tightfitting- clothes in either size for both ghouls were extremely hard to come by. The solid outline of his leathered muscles was hidden away under the exterior of an inlaid fleece canvas jacket, his leather trench coat providing the final layer against the weather. There was a holster he had adjusted for his waist that was snugly strapped; it created a bulge on his hip, indicating the concealed threat.

The dark cowboy hat upon his head tipped down as he cupped a hand around his mouth, working on lighting his smoke despite the wind whistling through the cracked window. Nearly every inch of him was covered; the high collar of his coat drew up his neck. Only his lower face was made visible to her, and his eyes glowed orange in their alcove as he awaited her response.

“You all there?” he muttered.

She was just standing there…just _staring_ at him, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what her deal was. Not that he actually minded it, he liked staring at her, too. She was always easy on his tired eyes.

A snap of his gloved fingers in front of her face, and she recoiled, blooming like a red firework. “You havin’ a damn stroke?”

There was a snort, and she finally broke her eyes away and to the side, crossing her arms and toeing at a piece of glass at her foot. “I…I like your look. It suits you,” she said rather sheepishly. "Really living up to your title."

The comment made him pause, and he took a long drag before blowing it to the wayward airstream, “Oh yeah?” His eyes roved her up and down, and he waggled his eyebrow muscles suggestively. “Want me to fuck you in it?”

A highly embarrassed squeak, but her eyes gave him the answer. There was a chuckle, and he cracked his back in place.

“You’re _weird_ ,” he noted, and she began to walk away. “Wait, _hey_ \- what other kinks you got goin’ on? I’m about runnin’ out of fingers on one hand.”

“Fuck off,” she growled.

“…does that one count?” His eyes narrowed in the shadow of the brim of his hat as she stomped down the stairs. “Damn elephant.”

* * *

The morning had come, and they were met with a large, dilapidated shack. A crude, wooden sign was erected on the front, and the party stopped as a man peered through an equally crude window.

_“Marvins Minnow,”_ Evelyn read aloud, tapping a finger to her lips. “Must be our man.”

Campbell pointed to the decrepit barge moored at the makeshift pier. “I _think_ we’d be better off swimming.”

Cross gave a chortle. “Either way, we will be.”

“Ya minnows here for Marvin?” The man ambled over; his long, grey beard nearly reached his chest. It swayed gently along with the morning breeze. “Well? Speak up, mirelurk got yer tongue?”

“Is that your boat?” Campbell asked.

“Indeed.”

“Then, yes.” The sand-haired mercenary sighed. “We are the _minnows_.”

Evelyn clamped a hand hard over her mouth, turning away as she laughed uncontrollably at the seriousness of the mercenary’s tone.

The old man wizened his face. “Somethin’ wrong with that ther one?”

“She’s a little-” The bounty hunter pointed two fingers at the side of his head and twirled them in circles. Evelyn struck at him with her free hand.

“I see,” Marvin said somberly. “If ya got the caps, I can provide fer ye."

They cautiously boarded and began to make the way across. The morning sun was on its journey; the sky was a light shade of purple. The dark water roiled around the edge of the boat; the depth deep and the undercurrent strong; a musty waft permeated the air. The hum of the motor made their presence known.

The sound of vomit splattered over the side of the barge. Lydia groaned, a green tinge to her pale cheeks.

“Not one fer the water?” Marvin circled an oily finger through his beard.

“Was probably whatever you made for breakfast,” Evelyn said to the bounty hunter dryly. She had declined his offer of a serving of...whatever the hell he had fried up, and partook on an apple instead.

The merc rolled his eyes as he sidled up to the sick girl. He nudged her with his elbow. “Don’t lean over; try and sit down- focus on deep breaths. Here, take some water...in _small_ amounts, goin’ to make yourself puke aga- _hrm,_ spoke too soon.”

_“Ughhhh-”_ Lydia moaned; the rest of her morning meal was retched into the churning wakes of water.

“Good mirelurk bait,” Marvin spoke wisely as he stroked his beard, ignoring the four heads that turned to stare critically at him.

A loud _wack wack wack_ split the silence as the bounty hunter blew a flat, leathered palm against Lydia’s upper back. “You good?”

She shivered, ducking her head between her arms and wrestling her fingers together.

“Take it as a _no_.” He dove a hand inside for a smoke, muttering angry, incoherent foreign garbles when he remembered his lack thereof. He spied the girl reach inside her pocket for a cigarette she had filched from somewhere, and he nabbed at it to dispose of. "Hell I say 'bout these things?"

They were soon disembarked.

“If yer be needin’ passage back; just light the lamp ‘ere and I’ll be o’er in the mornin’. Don’t travel at night, not safe.” Their ferryman was paid his toll; the barge left behind the smell of burnt exhaust.

“Not too familiar with this side…” Campbell studied down the path of the riverbed. “Backtrack?”

“There should be-” The ghoul scratched his head. “Let’s keep goin’; it’ll come back to me.” He gave a once-over of the young woman. “Good to walk?”

Lydia burped into her hand, a weak nod.

They entered the outskirts of the cavernous city; a cloud of gas billowed around them.

* * *

_Groan_

The bounty hunter’s chin sluggishly lolled against his chest, the weight of his skull trying to bore him into the earth.

_Clink **clink**_

There- there was a cold metal around his wrists. Shouts. His eyesight flickered; his head was just so _damn_ heavy. There was an obnoxious pressure digging into his spine; holy _fuck_ , it _hurt_.

_“Wkerep.”_

_What?_

More digging: now he was just _annoyed_. Those faded hazels were the barest of slits, but he could make out _something_.

_“Thsonewkingp.”_

_Honey, it’s time to wake up. Don’t you remember? We have the ultrasound today; we’ll finally know if it’s a boy or a girl! I’m so excited! I was already thinking about some names-_

Like a corpse rising from its grave, he bolted upright; an electric tremor jolted through his arms as he nearly tore them from their sockets.

“Boys, we got a live one today!” Laughter.

**_What-_** he blinked away the fog; there was dim fluorescent lighting, and it reeked of piss. His legs scrambled beneath him as he tried to stand; he was trapped, his wrists were cuffed. The majority of his clothes had been removed; there was a fucking _muzzle_ strapped to his face.

The sound of a door opening. “Hey meathead, Jackson wants a word.” A female voice.

He snapped his head to the side; a large, crimson figure was clouding his peripherals, and he twisted his body. He had been lying against Charon’s naked back; they were chained together on the floor; the ferryman had been digging his elbow into his spine. He too, was muzzled.

_What the fuck._ His throat itched and he coughed. They were in a cell- _Slavers_.

Charon growled against him, and he felt the ghoul shift.

_Holy fuck, the **girls**_. Cross snarled inhumanely and thrashed at his restraints.

**_Clink clink clink!_**

“Told _ya_ he was fucking feral!” Another bout of laughter.

“How the _fuck_ are you so calm?! Do you know what ferals-”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, newbie.” A hack. “He ain’t feral- just pissed off.”

The merc forced himself to close his eyes and take deep breaths; he needed a cool head. He turned and studied the rest of the room.

_Three_. There were three slavers in the room, and more cells across. Campbell was in his own; Evelyn and Lydia were in the other; the third was empty, and they were all unconscious on the floor. Everyone's gear was piled to the side of the wall.

“Okay, we goin’ to start this shit?”

“Got to wait for Cue to come back- speak of the _devil._ ” The door opened, and a bald man with an eyepatch strolled in.

“Let’s get this over with.” Cue’s right arm was shaking against him. “How many? Three?”

“And two ghouls.” All heads turned to stare at them.

“Fucking shufflers. Goddamn ticking time-bomb ferals is what they is.” A man hacked loudly and spat at the foot of their cell. “You guys actually get good money for these zombies?”

“Enough for the hassle of it.”

“Ey ey, we socializing or we working?” A snap of fingers, and one of the men went to the women’s cell. He grabbed at Lydia’s cuffed hands, dragging her across the floor.

“Oi, she’s still out of it. I need her awake, how many times do I-”

A cattle prod was clicked on, and a sharp **_buzz_** electrified the bare skin of her waist. A seizure from the electricity coursed through her body, and she was upright instantly. Her head whipped back and forth.

Lydia suddenly gasped and shrieked, trying to flee away from those grimy hands that were reaching for her face and chest. “No- _no!_ ”

One of the men sitting in the corner blew out a bored sigh, licking the tip of a scarred thumb as he leafed through an edition of _Grognak: The Barbarian._ “Hurry up, Cue. I fucking hate it when they _scream_.”

“Young, would say about older teens.” The man named Cue stuck his tongue rudely out of the side of his mouth, writhing it around as he analytically observed Lydia. “Female, no diseases as far as I can tell, not sick-” He pulled her lips apart, careful not to stick a finger inside; a missing fingertip had been the cost of that mistake. “Yeah, I’d say put her in CAT A.”

“CAT A, aye.” The man scribbled a tally to the side on his table. A lit cigarette was at his elbow in a tray. 

“Okay, pretty girl, let’s get you out of these clothes.”

Lydia began to shriek.

Cross was furiously pounding away at his restraints; the **_CLACK CLACK CLACK_** of the chains garnering some attention.

“I’m telling ya man, he’s _losin’_ it.”

“Oh, _shut the **fuck**_ **up** ,” a man irately shouted at the ghoul. “Givin’ me a fucking headache.” A _skkr_ as the desk shuffled from under his weight. “ _Hey, zombie-”_

 _“Get your fucking hands off of **her**.” _All heads turned; Evelyn was sitting upright, her hands wiping away the stray hairs from her face. She pointed threateningly at Cue. _“I’ll **kill** you.”_

“Damn, she told you Cue.” A man approached her cell, leaning his arms through the bars and making a suggestive face at her. “If I had the _caps_ -”

“You wouldn’t do _jackshit_ with her; you probably still can’t get it up after-”

“Watch your fucking mouth, Jax.”

Cue dropped Lydia to the side, whistling. “Hey, _morons_ , bring her over. I’ll just get them done at the same time; she’s already awake.”

_Rrrrt_. The cell door opened. Evelyn scrambled to her feet and received a kick in the chest; she coughed and went to her knees. Charon growled loudly.

Evelyn gave a wheezed laugh. “I hope you don’t _fuck_ like you hit- didn’t feel _shit_.” Her eyes were a shining craze, and the slaver blew a shaky breath as he swung a hand back and viciously struck at her repeatedly. A sickening _crunch_ could be heard as her nose was broken.

_“Blghrg.”_ Evelyn coughed, spitting the overflow of blood to the side.

_“Stop!”_ Lydia sobbed, wrestling with her cuffs.

There was a loud _**TING**_ as Charon pulled at his restraints, cracking a chain.

“Oi oi!” One of the slavers pulled on the collar of the man, tossing him to the side. “You _fucking_ idiot! She’s damn merchandise, fucking _look_ at her- that creep in Braxton is going to want to pay a shit ton of caps for her, and you _broke_ her fucking face!”

“What the fuck you laughing for, zombie? You like seeing a woman get beat?” The man at the desk was glaring at the ashy-colored ghoul; his laughter was vibrating in his chest raucously. “You beat ‘em and eat ‘em?”

Evelyn ripped the chain of her cuffs apart, planting a foot behind herself and throwing a fist back before slamming it into the side of the first slaver's head. A loud _spwish_ was heard as his skull blew into an explosive display of skull and brain matter. The others simply froze at the sudden, unpredictable turn of events. He crumpled to the floor at her feet, and she lunged at the second; a _crack_ pierced the air as she smashed his skull into the concrete wall.

“What _the_ -” A fumble for a gun at the edge of the table; a corpse was thrown at an alarming speed at him, and he collapsed in a groaning heap on the floor.

Cue had armed himself; Lydia cried out and shoved herself into his side, the surprised slaver tripped over. Before he could rise, Evelyn dove a hand into his mouth and squeezed her fingers down his throat, shoving his pained scream aside as she tore off his lower mandible. A coat of hot blood spewed over her person. She then stomped over to the man still struggling on the floor and put all of her force into a dropkick at his head, the wall and floor splattered in vibrant red.

Lydia’s mouth gaped open and closed like a fish; Evelyn patted the bodies down for keys. A _jingle_ filled the space between them, and soon both girls were free. The cuffs made a _tink tink_ as they hit the deck. The cell door opened, and both ghouls just blinked at her.

“You guys are fucking _useless,_ ” Evelyn growled; the dark blood coating her body and face made her akin to a Viking.

A jingle of keys, and they were set free from their bonds. She raised an eyebrow down at their muzzles. “Are we allowed to keep those?” she asked amusedly as they rubbed at their wrists.

The ferryman drew her to be seated at the chair.

“Hold still; I will reset it.” The crimson ghoul firmly swaddled her face between both hands, and he gave her a nod. “This will hurt.” His thumbs then clicked the cartilage back into place as she screamed out and flailed her hands to the side. “Done.”

He then took out his scarf and wiped away at the gore slathered over her visage. Her eyes were a bright, blue sky inside of a dark, crimson lake; for once, they were the same.

Campbell’s cell was opened, and the merc kicked him in the ribs. “Wake up; makin’ me look bad.”

A cough. “What the hell _happened_?” For a moment, everyone stopped to survey the room, and the tanned merc blinked stupidly.

“What do you think?” The bounty hunter was rummaging through lockers noisily, and he gave a curt nod to the blood-soaked Viking.

“Had me sitting on my ass down here, just waiting,” Campbell joked as Evelyn came over and unlocked his restraints. “Appreciate the assistance, Cazador.”

“Anytime…slave reject.”

“Now I _really_ owe you.”

There was the sound of shuffling as everyone reequipped themselves; Cross had snagged the gun from the table and handed it to Lydia. “You see, you _shoot_.” The merc then filched a packet of cigarettes from a drawer. Evelyn rolled her eyes as he instantly lit up a smoke. “What?”

An awkward cough: the ferryman nodded his head in the doorway. “We need to leave.”


	28. Saint Silverton: PT1

A manly scream erupted.

A chair screeched across the floor. “What the fuck was _that_?” Gunfire, and shouting. A door slammed open against the wall.

A man in hysterics. “Holy _fuck_ guys! I saw Techy get fucking _creamed!_ ”

More shuffling of feet, and a clatter of commotion. Screams, and rapid gunfire. After a few moments, it was deathly silent; the sound of footsteps could be heard down the hallway.

“It’s this one!”

Gunshots.

Bullets sprayed along the wall they had taken cover behind; the merc heard the tell-tale of a reload and bent his torso out, with two shots they were clear.

“I’m almost out,” Campbell called from his position.

The bounty hunter grumbled through the cigarette in his mouth; rapid pillows of smoke exhaled into the air. He jutted a chin at Evelyn, giving her a judicious look. “How’s the nose? Can’t have ya lookin’ like me so soon.”

She blushed, scowling. “It’s fine,” she said curtly, and he rolled his eyes at her snappy attitude. “I’m sort of _used_ to being hit in the face lately.”

“Holy fuckin’ _hell_.” The bounty hunter removed his cig and grabbed at her face, kissing her desperately, not caring for the gore she had painted across her lips.

They continued; the ferryman held Evelyn back with his arm, a silent message indicating he would take point.

She opened her mouth to protest, but the merc swiped a palm over and clamped it shut. “You will fuckin’ argue over _anythin’_.”

A man camping in a room had successfully managed to gain the drop, his gun aimed at the side of Lydia’s head. The bounty hunter quickly shoved her to the side; the shot blew into his bicep. He growled loudly; a large, leathered palm encircled around the back of the man’s head, and his blade came out and sunk pleasingly into the underside of the enemy’s jaw. He gave it a sickening twist before letting him drop at his feet.

Cross stowed his knife away and gave a warning look to the advancing ghoul. “ _No_ , I got it.” He settled his cowboy hat atop Evelyn’s head and began to strip himself. She inserted a finger and prodded the bullet from his flesh.

“This was _much_ better when you were naked.” The merc smirked, ignoring the sudden inquisitive glances from the others in their company.

_“Ugh.”_ Evelyn chucked the bullet at his grinning face, injecting him rather forcefully with a stimpak. “You are sometimes just so _awful_.”

“Ow.” He rubbed at the site where she had stabbed him, and shoved on his clothes.

“Big _baby_.”

“Are you well? Let us continue,” the ferryman aggravatedly sighed. It still irked him to see them so casual with each other; whatever that comment from his employer had meant, he honestly did _not_ want to know.

The merc brought up the rear, and Lydia’s head swiveled back to him with a silent mouthing of _thank you_. Cross just grunted, a return of _don’t thank me yet, kid._

* * *

“What is the situation?” Charon came to stand behind Evelyn, his weapon wrapped steadily in his fingerless gloves. They were suddenly back in the routine of past adventuring, and they both felt at ease with the knowledge of each other.

“I marked seven down the further corridor.” She twirled a hand. “No other prisoners- so far.”

_Whir whir_

A turret: its unmistakable figure whirred in place around the bend. Charon instinctively drew a protective arm around her as they peeked around the corner.

_“Oh, shit.”_

The turret halted in its mechanical track, firing away as they jumped back in their spot.

“Maybe we can use Cross as bait,” Evelyn jested, craning back to catch the ferryman’s amused stare.

“Use me as what now?” The merc was emerging from his cleared sector with Lydia close behind him.

“Nothing.”

The merc indicated to a room, and his voice rasped out at them. “There’s a terminal in here-”

Lydia scurried away, immediately putting her fingers to the keys. _Tappity tappity tappity_. “Got it,” she sniffed, her dark eyes glowing against the illumination of the screen.

“ _Stuff,_ huh…knew you were _smart,_ ” the merc said gruffly, his eyes roving back to Evelyn. “Bout damn time _someone was_.”

_Whir whir_. The turret could be heard firing away wildly amidst the screaming; when only the silence remained, they rejoined with Campbell and pushed forward, breaking through to the open sky.

* * *

“Okay, okay- _stop_ -” Evelyn was breathing heavily, her palms keeping the merc’s mouth at bay from her own. “Can I come up for air?”

He rolled his eyes, moving her hands away to assault her with more kisses.

The ferryman grumbled dejectedly. It was all they had been doing for the past half-hour since they had cleared the slaver den. A loud, raspberry sound drew his head instinctively; the bounty hunter was blowing against her neck as she was attempting to wiggle out from his hold.

“Cross, I _mean_ it- let go! I’m not _dying_. I really, really, _really_ just want a shower.” She instantly glared at his beseeching look. _“No, alone. I’m **filthy**.”_

“Me too,” he reasoned, and the ferryman couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

A whistle to the side. “Goddamn Cazador, you going to let the man be so we can continue on?”

Cross smothered her annoyed exhale with a smile against her lips.

* * *

The bounty hunter was busily lighting a smoke, feigning off the cold wind with a cupped hand under his dark cowboy hat.

The sound of the wasteland nightlife called out to him behind a curtain of impenetrable inky darkness. The burning glow from the lamp beside him provided a soft, emanating light as he smoked his cigarette on the back balcony of _Emry’s_. The saloon was hectic; the laughing calls from the scarlet girls and pounding thumps of fists banging on the gambling tables drifted to his ears as he blew out a perfect _O_ ring in the air. Even with lips it was a feat to pull off, but nearly two hundred years of trying paid homage to his skill. 

The timestamp for Cross’s last visit to the town of Saint Silverton was a wild guess at best; there was a new bartender at this favored establishment- old Michael had finally kicked the can- and his usual girl had apparently run off with a ghoul caravan trader. A puff. His thoughts were taking a stroll down memory lane; there was still a patched-up board along the railing from an odd number of years ago when he had flung a man off the side of the second story for running his fucking mouth at him. He had been quite the hothead, back then.

“So, what’s your story, _Cowboy_?” The sultry voice made him halfway turn.

An entertainer, sparkling in a silver sequin dress, was leaning gingerly against the open frame of the arched French door. _Johnny Guitar_ was cooing from the jukebox downstairs, and the ambient lighting from inside gave her outline a contrasting appearance. The golden braid of her hair was meticulously pinned in an upright twist, giving the merc an appreciative view of her dainty jawline. She was absolutely stunning.

A bright orange tip glowed, illuminating his scrutinized eyes at her. “A damn long one,” he rasped, turning back to the cold air of the wastes.

He could feel her presence still behind him; a waft of her perfume mingled with the inhale he made. It was a sweet, flowery smell. There was a creak from the wooden boards as she walked forward, leaning over the edge of the railing beside him.

“Whose isn’t?” she replied, arching her back slightly to allow him a full view of the cutout of her dress. She was frail compared to Evelyn, but, she did not have to make a living surviving the harsh wilderness of the wastes, not with _those features_.

A snort was all he offered in reply, and he took another drag. “Somethin’ ya needed?” he questioned her, voice on edge. He had let Evelyn be after her fiftieth complaint of wanting a solo bath, and quite suddenly, he found himself wanting to intrude lest he make a stupid decision.

There was a glint in her emerald eyes as she gracefully turned to him. “Was just making conversation, sorry if I offended you in some way.”

“Not in the mood.”

“A- _ha. Hmm._ ” A small click of her pale fingertips against the railing. “Can I put you in it?”

He gave her a look, momentarily dumbstruck at the unexpected offer. A grunt, and he shook his shoulders. “I’ve got a woman, not interested.”

A chiming chuckle, it was hypnotizing. “I didn’t ask you if you did.”

She then bit her bottom lip rather suggestively, and he began to feel the well-acquainted hot curling in his stomach. It was an all too familiar sight to him, and it was strangely attractive on another woman. He quickly looked away, flicking his dying cigarette out to the blackness below.

“Excuse me.” He made his way back to the room and hastily stripped, ignoring Evelyn’s complaints as he splashed soapy bathwater all over the floor. He parted her legs over the edges of the tub. “Think I can make you crack this one too?”

And he did.

* * *

A dream filled with wisps of flowery hair and crystallized jades for eyes awoke him from a dead sleep; he found the bed to be cold on her side. A groan, and he blinked wearily and looked around the room. He found Evelyn sitting in the large, cushioned chair in the corner, smoke curling from her lips as she inquisitively stared at the lit cigar he had purchased earlier-they were _rare_ -in her hands. She was wearing his burgundy shirt, and it proved much too large for her frame.

The glow from a wall clock read two o’clock in the morning. A _thump_ as he laid back into the pillow, rubbing his hands over his face; he was very much aware of how erect he was. “Come back to bed.”

“Not tired,” she responded simply, blowing out a sweet, wood-scented smoke his way. “How do you make that O ring? I can’t get it.”

“You goin’ to take up smokin’?”

A shake of her head, and a light giggle. “ _No_. I’m just bored, at the moment; I was going to wander around town, but the weather is trying to kill us.”

The constant rattle against the windows and battering of rain along the rooftop attested to her claim. A cough, and she turned her head away and pounded her chest with a fist.

A raspy chuckle. “You don’t inhale it.”

“I know that-” she shakily rattled, drawing in clean air through her lungs, “-was an accident.”

The bed frame creaked under his weight as he lumbered over to her, and she raised an eyebrow at his erection. “You were muttering in your sleep,” she watched him from behind her veil of hazy smoke. “Nice dream?”

A downcast of his eyes; he could not trust himself to give away his straying thoughts. Instead, he threw on some clothes, garnering another mused expression.

“Going somewhere?”

“Just cold,” he partly lied, scooting her to sit over the arm of the chair so he could settle in her seat. He took the cigar, drawing in some tobacco filtered air and allowing the flavor to settle over his tongue, before he drew the smoke back and let loose a perfect ring.

_“How?”_ Her feet burrowed between his thighs.

“Practice,” he said vaguely, taking in another hit and grabbing at her face. He openly kissed her, letting the smoke curl into her mouth, and he grinned as she sputtered and pulled away. “I’m tryin’ to show you.”

She coughed dramatically, and he gave a shake of his head. He drew in a long breath, then allowed the smoke to sit for a few moments, before opening his mouth slightly and inhaling it through his cavernous nostrils like a milky waterfall.

“I thought you don’t inhale cigar smoke-”

“You don’t,” he agreed, blowing out a long, extended breath, “if you’re _human_ \- you know what I mean, damn- but doesn’t have the same effect on me. But don’t _you_ try it.”

He handed her back the cigar. A wavered ring blew from her mouth, and she crinkled her nose at the failure.

“That was actually pretty good, for a beginner,” he rasped.

Evelyn leaned forward and kissed him softly. “Tell me your mannequin story.”

He groaned, crooking his elbow against the other arm of the chair and burying his head into his palm. His words were muffled. “ _Anythin’_ else but that-” 

_“Pleasssssse-”_ A dangerously cute look.

“ _Alrightalrightalright_ \- I’ll swap stories with ya…I want to know how you got that scar on your back-” He drew a hand over her right shoulder, rubbing at the site. “-and then you can hear it.”

“Is it too personal?”

A gruff laugh, awash in shame. “Too damn _embarrassin’_.”

A tap of her fingers against his jaw, and she tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling. The cigar was returned to his rough hand. “I think it was…four, five years ago? Obviously way before I met Charon, and I was traveling on my own-” The merc propped his chin in one hand and gave a loud snort, observing the features on her face as she talked. She always had animated expressions and waved her hands around intricately during her storytelling. “-I was wandering through the Mojave at the time-”

“You’ve been to the fuckin’ west coast?” He blinked at her.

“Haven’t _you_? Is that why they call you the _Eastern_ Cowboy?” she mused.

“I mean, I _have_ , plenty a times,” he grumbled, “always too damn hot.”

“Been to New Vegas?”

A smirk set on his face, but faded just as quickly. He nudged her with his free elbow. “Go on with your story.”

“ _Well_ , anyways-” She irritably huffed. “-I ran across some legionaries, I fucking _hate_ those guys-”

“Who _doesn’t_?”

“-and they were actually just hightailing it from some NCR rangers about a mile or so out; they were pretty fucked up, but I was also _really_ high on jet-”

_“Jet?”_ he rasped in disbelief. “I didn’t know you took that shit.”

Her eyebrows disappeared into her wavy ringlets of hair. “Why is everything coming out of my mouth so _surprising_ to you? And yeah…I _experimented_ \- with stuff, but I haven’t touched it in years.”

He snapped his jaw shut, realizing he really _didn’t_ know Evelyn that well after all. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Do you want me to continue?”

“Yeah, I do.” He rocked her with his elbow again. “I won’t interrupt again, promise.”

“ _O_ -kay, _so_ , I slugged one guy in the chest, and he sorta… _exploded, you know_ \- the other two just kinda stood there, and I don’t think they really _understood_ what sort of happened. One guy got shot in the back of the head, thanks to a ranger wayyyy out in the distance, and I had **stupidly** turned to spot the sniper, and the last fuck had a fucking spear- a _spear_ \- and he stuck me in the back with it. I think he was just in _shock_ , or something, cause it obviously wasn’t enough to kill me, but it hurt like fuck. I pulled it out and just battered him to death with it…and, yeah.”

“You’re so damn… _violent_ ,” Cross finally said, tilting his head slightly back from her.

A sigh, and her eyes were swimming through her past memories. “The NCR ranger who took the shot had come up to me, asking if I was okay and yada yada…he let me come back to the outpost he was stationed at, and he gave me a sweet jacket- was my _favorite_ \- and then we fucked.”

The merc was in the prepping stage of drawing out another O ring, but he gave a sharp inhale and spewed out a choked gasp.

Evelyn toothily smiled down from her perch. “He said something like- _I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman hit someone hard enough to make them burst like that before_. Apparently, it was a _huge_ turn-on- NCR rangers are fucking _weird_ \- I ended up seeing him again, in some small town I was passing through, and we- _umpf!_ ”

A rugged, grey palm cupped over her mouth, immediately shoving her unspoken words back down her throat. “I **really** don’t want to hear the rest.”

Her eyes grew wide and she scrabbled a hand at his arm; he had accidentally smothered her nose, too. He instantly released her, and she gave a chest-racking cough as she breathed in copious amounts of air. She slapped at his outstretched hand viciously.

“ _Fuck you_ ,” she snarled at him, a layer of frost resting on her shoulders. “I’ve had to hear all _your_ **shit** ; you have no room to fucking gripe.”

“I don’t want to hear how some other guy…just, **no** ,” he growled, clearly irritated. The cigar was deposited into its tray.

_“Jealous?”_

“What the _fuck_ do you think?”

She visibly cooled a little and chewed on her lower lip in thought. “Okay, _question_ : do you _normally_ get _spooled_ up over your other lady friends fucking other people? Cause it’s their job, and-”

“Exactly. It’s their damn **job**.”

“So what if _I_ decided-”

He cracked his knuckles by forming a solitary fist. “No way in _hell_ are you takin’ that kind of profession.”

A disbelieving laugh. “I’m sorry, _who are you_?”

“I’m yours, and you’re mine…and that’s that,” he said lowly, fully self-conscious of his hypocrisy and unable to meet her eyes as they widened at him. When he finally mustered the courage to steal a glance at her, she had grown as dark as his shirt, and she drew it up over her head to hide away inside its spacious fittings. “You good in there?”

A mass of clothing folded upright in a shrug.

“…I do not understand you, sometimes.” A small voice from within the tenting of his shirt. “You are… _complicated_.”

A shaky breath, oh, how _right_ she was…but then again- “You ain’t so straight-wire yourself.”

A few moments passed in silence between them, each lost in the dark recess of their secret mayhem's. Cross suddenly felt a wave of complete exhaustion overcome him, and he lifted himself from his seat. His fingers tugged at the collar of her makeshift hideaway.

“C’mon.”

“Not tired.” Her voice was extremely shaky; she was secretly _crying_.

The merc blew out a breath, unsure of what to say or _do_. “Look, I’m _not_ really in the fuckin’ mood right now for this shit. Tell me what’s wrong, and we can go back to bed.”

A strangled cry from within. “ _Easy_ words coming from someone like **you**.”

“What the fuck is it you want to hear?” he rasped angrily. She halfway appeared from her hiding place with a passive look, her tumble of long, wavy hair beginning to fall forward. The merc continued. “You want to hear how fuckin’ scared I am, for you? Never mind that damn stunt you pulled, or those fuckin’ slavers.”

“I **don’t** want your concern.”

A harsh laugh at her ignorant wish. “Well you’re goin’ to fuckin’ get it, you ain’t got much of a _choice_.”

Those icy eyes narrowed. “Actually, I _do…_ and I think you do _too_.”

The knowing look in her raven stare slapped him across the face. He gnashed his teeth together and turned away. “Fuck you talkin’ ‘bout?” he edged her.

Her voice grew tight. “I think you know _exactly_ what…don’t you fucking tell me you’re mine when you’re thinking of someone else, you make it _so_ obvious.”

His eyes snapped to her bruised face; the light purpling from her broken nose gave a shadowed hue under her seething blue eyes. He had been so fucking _hot_ that he couldn’t see straight, when that slaver was wailing on her…he tried to dredge up those same emotions for something to hold onto, but he only discovered a cold, dark pit instead.

They said nothing more, and she stood and raised the shirt over her head to toss back at him. She then locked herself behind the bathroom door, the sound of the faucet turning on, and he finished getting himself dressed.

The saloon nightlife summoned him from down below.


	29. Saint Silverton: PT2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Extra chapter this weekend, cause why not? Totally rocked out to The Killers album 'Imploding the Mirage' during this one.

Charon was tapping an index finger against the table, mindlessly watching the wiry mercenary beside him shuffle a deck of cards. Beyond the safe sanction of the double doors of _Emry’s_ , the wind howled, and clouds burst forth with pelting rain. The storm did not appear to be forgiving anytime soon, and he had to contend himself inside the saloon with a simple game of poker. Lydia had retired to the room Evelyn had purchased for her- it would appear his tasked stalking was only continuing to frighten her. Charon didn’t bother in attempting at placating her in hopes she would become more comfortable around him; his mind was preoccupied with other dilemmas, at the present time.

The bounty hunter was already eight rounds of straight whiskey in, with a growing pile of caps at his elbow. He had traded his packet of cigarettes for some cigars, and he enjoyed the heavy smoke over his tongue as he roiled the flavor around his mouth before he puffed some rings.

Evelyn was absent for the time being, and the ferryman observed the merc beginning to become inebriated; something _clearly_ troubled him. He did not know whether or not the two had another argument.

“That’s it- I’m _out_ -” The man to his right slapped his cards down on the table, belching loudly and then turning in his seat to smack the prostitute’s rear at his side. She gave a jump and he laughed. “Let’s go, darlin’. I ain’t all out of caps _yet_.”

A _jingle_ of caps was added to the betting pool. “Care to raise?”

The man on his left held his own; the second one to his right sucked air through his front teeth and gave a low whistle. His caps, too, were added. Cross grumbled inwardly to himself but threw in as well. Charon folded, stretching in his seat as his eyes surveyed the room.

Across the way, amidst the hazy smoke and ambient lighting, was a smoothskin woman leaning against the jukebox. She was immensely striking, but her features weren’t what had caught the ferryman’s eyes- she was staring directly at his employer with a guarded expression, and he mentally checked her against his threat list. It was nonexistent.

The saloon was riled with the voice of Frank Sinatra.

_“When an irresistible force such as you, meets an old, immovable object like me-”_

Cross’s blank poker face was mostly attested to her, at this point. A sign of _anything_ , and he was afraid she would devour him. It was a cat and mouse game, and, unfortunately, he found himself as the pitiful field mouse, drenched outside in the pouring rain as the feline calmly watched from behind closed windows.

_“You can bet just as sure as you live-”_

He was a fucking _ghoul_ ; he was more terrifying than he was charming-with most smoothskin women, the one obvious unincluded-and he already had a relayed status. When he was suddenly now taken again, after two hundred years, why did all of these women seemingly take interest in him?! The merc couldn’t figure out her angle, and there was a _tiny_ part of him that didn’t really care to know.

_“Something’s gotta give, something’s gotta give, something’s gotta give!”_

Cross felt a wave of danger settle under his muscles; an instinctive glance up met with the ferryman’s burning eyes across. The hawking bastard had caught the underlying tension between himself and the woman, and his face had a silent message only he could decipher.

_Don’t you **fucking** dare._

The merc’s fingertips wiggled against the backside of his cards, and he tossed the cigar around his mouth. Another quick look was given to his employee, but Charon no longer acknowledged his existence, as his gaze was stolen across the room behind him.

_“Damn,”_ Campbell breathed, and the bounty hunter turned in his seat from curiosity.

_“When an irrepressible smile, such as yours, warms an old, implacable heart, such as mine-”_

Evelyn was standing at the bottom of the landing, visibly embarrassed, in a red-wine dress he didn’t even know she _had._ Her fingertips gripped the side of the stairwell railing, her wide eyes drifting around the room.

The dress was… _revealing_. The slits drew alongside her legs and came dangerously high up her thighs, and she uncomfortably held the ends together to try and prevent the extra show of skin. Her modesty was endearing, and even after having her naked image burned into his irradiated brain for all of eternity, he still hotly desired to see what was underneath. The clothing was so tightfitting he could make out the individual curves of her ass, and the fact she wasn’t wearing any lingerie underneath. That tumble of wavy hair was wild, and overthrown on one side of her shoulder, the ringlets and curls bouncing as she whipped her head around.

The merc gave a stupidly drunken stare, draping an arm over the back of his chair as he rubbed at his jaw. Meekly, she went to the bar counter, and the skin of her legs glowed under the soft light as the fabric fluttered behind her, the click of her heels tapping across the wooden floorboards. Evelyn perhaps attracted more wandering eyes than he was comfortable with, but he couldn’t help but smirk idiotically at his luck. She was downright gorgeous, and it was enough to make him giddy with mirth.

Charon had now risen from his spot, parting a warning look with his employer.

_You do **not** deserve her._

The bounty hunter’s eyes tracked him across the room. Evelyn was now settled, and Charon took the seat beside her, ordering them each a drink. The ferryman rapped his knuckles against the counter while engaging in conversation with her. Charon _was_ a good bodyguard; she was able to enjoy their easy company together in relative peace.

Hell, if _he_ didn’t know her, he may have tried a shot at her anyways.

The merc folded his cards down, preparing to join her at the bar. His eyes roved upwards. “Campbell, ya tryin’ to speak some words? _No?_ Then shut that fuckin’ mouth.”

A _click_ , and an awkward chuckle. “You’re a lucky bastard…mostly just a bastard.”

A sloppy chortle in agreement.

The other mercenary at his side gave a stupefied guffaw, his eyes still trained on Evelyn. “Holy fuck, no fucking way. There’s _no_ way. I’ve known you for _years_ \- you can’t tell me a fucking shuffler like yourself has a woman like _that_.”

Cross’s rugged thumb tip grazed against his forehead, slightly raising the brim of his hat. “You talkin’ like she would ever end up with someone like _you_ \- we both know _that’s_ a fuckin’ pipe dream.” 

“You got to be burning through caps, there ain’t no way.”

A shrug. “Believe me, don’t. Doesn’t change how we fuck every night.”

“So, how much she charge?” The man by the name of Teddy Smith snorted. “I’ll out pay you.”

Cross growled at the other mercenary. “Watch your damn mouth.”

“Be careful Ted,” Campbell said lowly, thrumming his cards against the wood. “Fair warning, Cross ain’t the one you should be worried offending.”

“C’mon Campbell, you’re thinking it too. That’s too good looking of a woman to be with a walking corpse like him.”

Cross let out a chuckle. “Fair.”

“You can’t tell me you aren’t paying for her.”

Campbell gave a low, inaudible hum in his throat. He had a good hand this round. “I didn’t believe it the first time, either.”

They all simply watched the bounty hunter bag his previous winnings and leave them for better company.

“Charon, quit fucking growling! You sound like a feral.” The ferryman snapped an evil glare at her. “Well then _stop_.”

A sigh of irritation.

“Good bodyguard,” Cross suddenly rasped behind her, his fingers crawling up the skin of her back. “God you look so sexy, when did you get _this_?”

“Stop it,” she spat at him, clearly still upset over their earlier arguing. She smacked his hand away. _“Fuck off.”_

There was a bought of hollering from the poker table at the blatant rejection. The merc just gave a cheeky smile, ordering himself a drink. The bourbon laced a trail of fire down his throat, and he gave a loud belch, earning a crinkled nose from his lover.

The ferryman was rubbing his hands together irately, and he gave a pointed stare to the blonde smoothskin woman spying on them across the way.

Evelyn nervously shifted in her seat, constantly fidgeting with the slits in her dress in an attempt to cover her exposed skin.

“Stop holdin’ your sides, it’s not goin’ to run off with ya,” the merc snorted.

The tight grip of her fingers fell away, and she shyly clasped her hands in her lap. She burned nearly as dark red as the dress, bashful and timid.

“Was there something you wanted?” She avoided his gaze, spinning her beer bottle in a teetering circle on the counter.

The merc grunted in affirmation; his empty glass was set aside, and he breathed in the scent of her as he nestled himself flush against her back. He wrapped a strong hand around her jaw and tilted her chin upwards to catch his shadowed eyes, granting him a fantastic view down the front of her dress.

**“You,”** he rasped lowly. She blushed a wonderful shade, and he dipped his other hand over the counter and into the ice bucket, filching a cube and rubbing it between the valley of her breasts. _“Heh heh.”_

The action had engrossed more than a few glued stares.

_“Eek!”_ Evelyn slapped his hand away, and the frozen cube skittered across the floor. “Are you fucking drunk?!” she hissed at him.

There were now a few drops of water cascading along the visible curve of her breast, and it was such a turn-on he instantly got hard. He leaned into her, rubbing at his mouth as he was trapped staring down at her dumbly. The weight of his hand gave a _slight_ squeeze around her jawline, and he felt her breath hitch in her chest.

A massive, crimson hand grabbed at his bicep, halting his fingers from creeping around her neck. “I think you are done,” Charon growled. The interaction between the two had made him significantly awkward, and they were attracting unnecessary attention.

The merc gave a snarl of his own in admonition, but he removed himself to instead swaddle her face in both palms, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I’m good- _I’m good_.” She smelled of light citrus and something sweet, and he took an inhale of her as he tenderly kissed her lips.

Betty Hutton cried through the speakers as he stood back upright and nabbed at her hands, ignoring Charon’s disgruntled face as he pulled her from her seat.

_“Everyone tells me he’s no good, he doesn’t love me like he should-”_

He twirled her in a circle, winding her into the crook of his arm. She breathily giggled, her long hair dancing in the soft light of the room as he spun her back out, and he smoothly caught her as she tripped over her own foot. 

_“I would forget him if I only could-”_

“Two left feet,” he commented, and she lightly smacked his chest.

_“He’s a demon, he’s a devil, he’s a doll!”_

“I didn’t know you can dance,” she replied, smiling up at him as he moved them away.

“Used to be pretty good,” he attributed honestly. He hesitated, and then made up his mind. Gently, he wrapped an arm around her waist and held her hand up in the other, slowly weaving them in circles. “Ow.”

_“That man can look me in the eye, and tell the biggest, sweetest lie-”_

The blonde entertainer had moved to the edge of the bar, and she was smoking a cigarette with a mused expression on her face. The haze of his eyes met with her sparkling ones for a very _brief_ moment.

_“And I forget that lipstick on his tiiiiiie!”_

“Sorry,” Evelyn laughed, lifting her foot off of his. “I don’t know _how_.” She was growing increasingly embarrassed at her inability, and she playfully shoved him away after a few moments. “I don’t dance.”

_“Sometimes I make up my mind, that I’ll stop being so blind-”_

He grabbed back at her hand. “It’s just timin’ and-” His eyes partway closed in a suspicious manner, and she blinked at him.

“What?”

_“And I’ll tell him off real baaaad!”_

“ _Coordination_. On second thought, I don’t think dancin’ is for you.”

She gasped at his bold mocking, attempting to wrench away. He pulled her flush against him, wrapping his arms around her and settling his hands against the small of her back. He then leaned his head down against her own and closed his eyes. They swayed for a few moments, before he kissed her slowly.

_“But then he turns on those charms, and there I am in his arms, and I forget why I’m mad!”_

Evelyn teasingly smiled at him as she pulled down the tip of his hat. “Can I help you?”

He blinked down at her. He was still drunk, and for a moment, he simply viewed her as a complete stranger. She was devastatingly lovely in that burgundy dress; the long cascade of hair overflowed down her back in a voluminous wave. Her bright, ocean eyes were regarding him with mild curiosity, and she bit her full lower lip as she studied him critically.

“Can I get you a drink?” Were the only words that were able to leave his mouth, and he just stood there, stupefied at his own lapse as she giggled at him.

She stretched upwards on the tips of her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “You can do _more_ than that.”

He was brought back to reality, and he realized just how fucking lucky he was to have this creature at his fingertips. “Want to go fuck?”

“ _Ugh_ \- you are **so** romantic.”

_“He’s a darling, he’s a dreamboat, he’s a dog!”_

“Takin’ that as a _yes_.”

* * *

He cracked a thumb at the bed. “You know what to do. No-” She halted in unstrapping her dress. “-don’t take it off.”

“You’re gonna make a fucking _mess_ -” She slapped his suggestive look down with a glare. “No _way_ , whatever pervert fantasy you wanna play out-”

“What? That’s not fair,” he groused. “You know how damn hot this cowboy getup is?”

She planted her palms on the sides of his face, trying to smoosh his leathered cheeks together. “But you look _so_ sexy in it. All shrouded and mysterious.” She bit her bottom lip, staring at his mouth lustfully, and it was the sexiest thing he had ever witnessed.

He twined his fingers through her long hair along her scalp with a pout. “Aww, _c’mon, baby_ -” They shared a passionate kiss, and he gave a breathy groan. “-just for tonight.” He was rubbing at his mouth, and there was a hungry glint in his eyes.

Her face felt hot and she grew momentarily faint at the pet name. He had never called her _that_ , before. The overly lustful tone of his raspy voice made her tremble. A flush of red crept up her neck, and she was soon kneeling on the edge of their bed. A rough hand was then planted firmly around her jaw, his fingers tapping rhythmically along her cheeks, as the other one swathed underneath her dress and over the front side of her vulva, cupping over the swelling and exploring her for a few moments. 

She soon dissolved into helpless whimpering, as he picked up his pace and was murmuring explicitly into her ear. He angled her chin up, and she drew flush against him as she was forced to meet his predatory gaze. Her eyes closed against the overwhelming passion of his stare, and his hand tightened warningly around her face.

“Fuckin’ look at me,” he demanded.

She complied, and her eyes locked onto his as she bit her lower lip, and she was grinding against his hand as he skillfully played the orchestral tune that her body was composed of. He had every bit of her memorized when it came to sex, and he knew exactly which strings to play and which to let rest until a later chorus.

_“F-f-fuck!”_ she cried, shuddering violently as she came and he drastically slowed himself, gently increasing the intensity of her orgasm with his fingers. “Ah- _wait!_ ”

Another wave, and he got her a second time.

He finally decided to join in, and he released her to lean forward on all fours as he undid the straps of his pants. His cock was throbbing from the pent-up excitement, and he inserted himself, taking his sweet, slow time in tempo as she was still riding down from her high. He pressed her face down into the bed, watching himself riding in and out of her. He slapped at her ass and she cried out in surprise and he grinned. Suddenly, he stopped, and he was breathing hotly down her back as he leaned over and lowly growled some sexual suggestions. She complied, putting in the work herself with the thrust of her hips, allowing him to stand back and simply watch as she pleasured herself with him.

He removed himself from inside. “Finish me off.”

She knelt before him. Her hair was gathered in a high ponytail, and he simply ran his fingers gently along her face to catch the loose strands as she worked at him with skilled practice.

_“Jesus- **fuck**.”_ The tip was left inside of her mouth for her tongue to swirl over slowly. When he was near, he quickly thrust back out, grabbing at her face as he came all over it. It was perhaps his favorite.

The merc groaned as he glanced down to buckle, not realizing the inherent risks he had taken before the deed was finalized. “Aw, _shit._ ”

“W-what?” Evelyn breathily asked, swiping at the mess he had bestowed.

“You’re so damn wet- got it all over my coat…and- _holster...how-_?” he mumbled under his breath, proceeding to strip down. 

She flushed, embarrassed at the exchange and his verbal complaints. “ _Sorry_ , we won’t do it again.”

“Wasn’t what I meant, goddamn…I guess you just baptized me.”

_“Oh my God.”_

“You really _do_ like the outfit.”

_“Shut **up**.”_

“Shit, if I knew this sooner- _waitwaitwait_ -” She was proceeding to strip and make her way to the bathroom to clean herself. Cross hastily grabbed at her hand. “-okay, okay…I’ll kill it with the jokes…is it the _hat_?” 

_“Ugh!”_

“When you’re done in there…you want to go again? I just figured out a better position.”


End file.
